


From This Day Forward

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-02 15:16:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 62,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10947180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: Fitz and Jemma decide to add (at least) weekly sex to their marriage of convenience. It doesn’t have tomeananything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Totally want to give credit where it’s due here. The idea for this fic came from an Amazon link death-spiral that brought me to this book: [A Negotiated Marriage by Noelle Adams](https://www.amazon.com/Negotiated-Marriage-Noelle-Adams-ebook/dp/B00B09UST8/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8). I have purposely not read this (yet) to keep my own fic as separate as possible – and considering it’s set within the S.H.I.E.L.D. universe, I doubt there’s any similarity to the plot beyond the basic premise. But if you’re into this idea, I suggest checking out this book!
> 
> Fair warning, this is PWP (that is, porn with pining, my personal specialty!) so...enjoy!

Jemma clicked her vibrator off with a frustrated sigh and lifted her free hand to rub at her forehead. _Frustrated_ was an understatement. Electronics had not been getting the job done for quite some time now, and neither had her imagination or erotic fanfic or even porn videos (hardly surprising, but she had been desperate). She needed a partner to get at those, hmm, hard to reach places. To turn her on in ways she herself couldn’t anymore. It had been far too long – three years – since she’d been with a man.

Longer, in fact, but it was easier to blame her lack of a dating life on her marriage. Most guys were hesitant to ask out a married woman, _oddly_. 

Too bad her husband had no interest in…filling in the opening, as it were. 

She sighed loudly, reminding herself of the dangers of thinking about Fitz when she was lying in bed, naked and gagging for it, and he was just down the hall in his own room. 

Jemma licked her lips, thinking. She knew it was just that she was horny. She and Fitz had never been like that, had never wanted to be. They agreed upon that going in. They weren’t each other’s types and the whole arrangement had been to ensure they could be together in the only way that mattered – in the lab. Shared rent and expenses were just an added benefit. 

But…there was no reason they couldn’t agree upon other…benefits. She didn’t remember the last time Fitz had discreetly stepped out for an evening either. She was pretty sure it was long before – surely, he had needs too. Why should either one of them go to the trouble of finding someone else when their best friend and trusted partner lived in the same damn flat? It didn’t have to mean anything. Objectively, they were both fit, heterosexual-or-at-least-mostly people. She was sure they could manage to – physiologically speaking, things were bound to work out fine. It didn’t have to _mean_ anything.

Jemma nodded resolutely. She would raise the issue at breakfast in a little bit. She glanced over at the vibrator resting loosely in her hand. The prospect of imminent sex with a real live human being had excited her, and she thought about giving it another go. Jemma thought about it for a moment, wondered if satisfying her need now would take away some of the urgency or would it be a pale imitation of what she would hopefully have soon. She sighed, sitting up. Shower, breakfast, talk with Fitz. An orgasm would be nice, but she wanted more.

**

Jemma had lost some of her nerve by the time she was showered and dressed, but not all of it. She would just need to find a way to broach the topic. Once it was out there, she was sure she could convince him. Jemma sat at the small kitchen table, offering Fitz a smile when he turned to face her from where he stood by the kettle. It was his turn to cook breakfast, and Jemma could already taste the pancakes browning on the griddle.

“Morning,” he greeted her. “D’you want juice?”

“No, tea is fine. Thank you.”

They were both silent for a minute, although Jemma suspected he wasn’t thinking about the same thing she was. Namely, how nice his backside looked. 

“I had an idea about the Golden Re – ”

“Fitz,” she interrupted, knowing if she let him get started on work, she’d never find the courage to ask him. “I need to talk to you.”

He did a double take before focusing on the pancakes. He removed them with a spatula and turned off the heat, and Jemma couldn’t help but notice how stiff his movements had become.

“Everything OK?” he finally asked.

“Yes. I – I wanted to…renegotiate our terms.”

Fitz didn’t look at her or speak for a long moment. Finally, he asked, “Did you meet someone?”

“No!” Jemma laughed awkwardly at her immediate and rather emphatic denial. “No, that’s the problem.”

He sat down slowly, putting the plate of pancakes in the middle between them. His only response was a curious, wary expression.

“I haven’t met anyone in a while,” she continued, trying to sound completely certain of what she was proposing despite the butterflies in her stomach. “And I’m feeling – that is, I wonder if you would like to add…sex.”

Fitz’s eyes bugged out and Jemma looked away, inhaling sharply. 

“What?” he screeched.

“Never mind. Silly question. Forget I said anything.”

What was that about convincing him? What had she been thinking? Clearly, she hadn’t been. 

“No!” His response was almost as loud and impulsive as hers had been earlier. He cleared his throat. “No, um. What are you saying?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Jemma said hurriedly. It had basically become her mantra that morning, and she suspected it would help to immediately relieve him of any worry on that front. Nothing had to change. They just would both be a lot more satisfied physically. “It could just be another thing we…do for each other,” she added, cringing at the way she’d worded it.

“Scratching an itch?” Fitz joked uncomfortably.

“Mmm,” Jemma agreed. She felt a bit breathless as she tried to make her point. “Sex is great exercise and stress relief, as you know. And it could even help us in the lab!”

He stared at her. “ _How?_ ”

“You know, just…we wouldn’t be distracted or muddled from…”

“Frustration.”

“Exactly.”

He was silent for a long time, and Jemma began to fear he would turn down her suggestion. Finally, he licked his lips and looked at her again. The expression in his eyes was difficult to read, but Jemma felt hopeful.

“I need to think about it.”

Jemma nodded rapidly. “Absolutely. We both should. Come up with concerns and conditions and – and – ”

“Yeah. We can talk more about it later.”

“Tonight? I’ll cook dinner and – ”

“We can look over the contract and – ”

“OK.”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They stared at each other for another long moment, and then Jemma couldn’t take the tension anymore. She tucked into her pancakes like they were her last meal.

**

In a fit of optimism, Jemma had begged to be squeezed into her doctor’s that afternoon. Fitz, who had been avoiding her all day (an impressive feat in their smallish lab), didn’t even ask where she was going. Which was good, because she didn’t know if she could tell him without turning a brilliant shade of red. She would tonight, in private, after it was done.

The great thing about her doctor was she didn’t bat an eye, even when an ostensibly married woman asked for a full panel of tests for STDs and the birth control that had always been refused before. The benefits of having a S.H.I.E.L.D. health plan, she supposed. They probably got much weirder requests. 

Probably she thought Jemma was having an affair.

Jemma rubbed at her arm as she walked to the front door. It would be a week before she could be certain the implant had taken effect. She supposed they could use condoms or something before then, and she had even stopped to buy some. But she didn’t really want to. On the other hand, she also was a bit concerned that they would lose their nerve if they waited too long. Maybe they could fool around a bit until then, work up to it. 

If he even agreed in the first place.

Jemma groaned to herself, shaking her head quickly as she opened the door and stepped inside. She was not surprised to see Fitz had beaten her home, but she was somewhat surprised that he was still in his work clothes with a bottle of Scotch and their marriage contract on the coffee table in front of him.

“Did you…want to eat first?” she asked, not sure if she was stalling or just trying to be courteous.

He shook his head quickly. “We can order something later.”

Jemma shrugged. “OK.” Then she stepped cautiously over to the couch and sunk down next to him, farther away than she normally sat. After a beat of awkward silence, she inhaled to speak.

“I’m – in,” Fitz said suddenly. 

“You are?” She wasn’t sure if she sounded more relieved or excited, but she didn’t really care either. She had hoped that he would agree, but had tried to prepare herself for the alternative. 

Fitz nodded jerkily, apparently still too embarrassed to make eye contact. “We should probably talk about, um, conditions.”

“Right,” Jemma replied, feeling her heart start to race. “Things like – frequency.”

Fitz rubbed quickly at his nose and then leaned forward for his glass. He took a sip. Jemma noticed he didn’t offer her a drink, and she considered how nervous he must be. As grouchy as he could be, she didn’t think he had ever been impolite to her in his life, with the exception of those first few months at the Academy when he refused to talk to or even look at her. 

“Could I have a drink, Fitz?” she asked, biting her lip to stop from smiling.

“Oh! Yes. Sorry.” He fumbled around, half-standing to grab another glass from the bar. 

Jemma pretended not to notice how his hand shook as he poured. 

“Frequency?” he asked, voice breaking a bit.

Jemma nodded, twisting her hands together in her lap as she waited for him to finish pouring. She darted forward to pick up her glass and drink some as soon as the bottle was upright. 

“I was thinking…weekly. At least.”

He gaped at her. “Wee – at _least_?”

She shrugged. “We can play it by ear. And of course, reschedule around trips or illness or – my period, if you don’t – that reminds me, I’ll be in charge of birth control. We need to wait a week.”

Fitz remained speechless.

“Have you been tested lately?”

His response was something between a nod and a shake of his head. “Yeah,” he finally clarified. “I had a physical two months ago. All – all good.” Under his breath but loud enough for Jemma to hear, he added, “Unsurprisingly.”

“And you haven’t – that is, there’s been no one since – ”

“Oh God. No.”

“OK!” Jemma exclaimed, attempting to simply sound enthusiastic about their plan rather than relieved that she hadn’t missed something – _someone_ in his life. “So, that’s frequency and health. What else? Oh, ah…satisfaction?”

“What…do you mean?”

“Just that – well, we can’t exactly make sure we’re…even, can we? But we can agree that both parties should be, ah, satisfied with each encounter, whatever that might mean in the moment.”

“Uh-huh,” Fitz said, clearly still a bit thrown by what she was poorly expressing. Perhaps he was worried he wouldn’t be able to satisfy her and that was why they wouldn’t be even. Jemma did not share those concerns; mostly she figured she would be getting the better deal out of that situation, considering refractory periods and all. She didn’t want him to feel used.

“Is there anything you don’t want to do – or, or me to do to you?” she asked, forging ahead.

“Not that I can think of,” he replied almost immediately. And then he perked up, clearly feeling happy he was finally able to contribute meaningfully. “But we could have a – ”

“A safe word, excellent idea, Fitz.”

“And what about…” he cleared his throat. Jemma was surprised to realize his hesitation seemed more pained than embarrassed. “Stopping if – it doesn’t, um, work out, or, or you meet someone?”

“Well,” Jemma replied slowly. During all her frankly obsessive thinking about the idea that day, the possibility that they would want to stop, that things might not _work out_ , had never even occurred to her. “I guess it will be like everything else in there,” she continued, nodding at the contract. “No explanations needed and no hard feelings.”

“Right. Best wishes for our best friend,” Fitz said, turning to stare at the paperwork himself as he repeated the same pact they had always made when this came up. The marriage license they had signed at the courthouse one afternoon peeked out from underneath the handwritten contract they had made and updated and revised throughout the years. “Not going to change us.”

Jemma nodded firmly. “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” she repeated. And then she swallowed her drink in one gulp. She coughed a bit and then forced a smile at him.

“A week?” he asked.

She thought about the condoms in her purse. Then she let out a shaky sigh. “A week. But that doesn’t mean we can’t – we could – start getting – ”

“Used to…”

“Yes,” she breathed out, as he leaned closer to her. “Practice…”

His lips touched hers in the first kiss they’d shared since their wedding ceremony three years earlier, at least the first meaningful one, the first one just between them rather than PDA for show. Jemma had been afraid it might feel weird, or that she’d start laughing, or worst of all, that she wouldn’t like it and all this discomfort would have been for naught.

Those fears were unfounded, and she let out a small moan as he deepened the kiss and reached his hands up to grasp her shoulders. All of her nerve endings started firing and the only thing she wondered was how they were going to wait a whole week.


	2. Chapter 2

That morning, when Jemma had been lonely and disappointedly horny in her bed, she would never have believed she would – by that very evening – be not at all lonely and yet still somewhat disappointedly horny on her living room couch. She and Fitz were getting more comfortable with the addition of physical intimacy to their relationship by the second, and were definitely getting a whole lot of practice. They were stretched out side by side, snogging rather frantically, and she could feel his _erection_ pressing into her hip.

Goodness, her actual best friend and technical husband had an erection and she had given it to him. She didn’t know quite what to do with that information besides, perhaps, hook her leg around his and use it to pull him even closer. Her breathing was heavy and irregular, continuously muffled as she kissed him again and again. Fitz’s hand slid underneath her shirt, skimming up her side until he was cupping and fondling her breast. Jemma hissed at the sensation, pulling herself even closer to him, creating delicious friction between their bodies from their chests all the way down to where she could feel herself getting wetter and wetter. Jemma knew if they didn’t stop soon, they might not be able to. Oh, why had they never realized – why had they never taken this step before?

With great reluctance, Jemma pushed one hand to Fitz’s chest and held him back. He chased after her lips briefly and then accepted the interruption. He opened his eyes, making contact with her own, and Jemma was happy to see he seemed about as shocked with arousal as she felt. 

“We should – ” she began, even though she really didn’t want to stop. 

Fitz nodded, although he didn’t back away. “Yeah,” he breathed out. 

They held each other close, not ready to let go yet, and then Fitz removed his hand from under her shirt. She wanted to whimper, to capture it where it was and return it where it belonged. Instead she forced herself to sit up, running one hand through her hair in an attempt to straighten it.

Fitz sat up himself, looking everywhere but at her, she noticed with some concern. Then he bent forward and pulled the marriage contract closer to him.

“We should probably make this official,” he observed, clearing his throat several times after he spoke.

He fumbled for the pen even as he flipped through the pages, but all Jemma could focus on was the way his trousers still tented out. She had an almost overwhelming desire to touch his – his cock, to undo the fastenings and reveal it and take it into her mouth and – good Lord. Had it really been that long? She was not an animal. She could control herself for one damn week. 

She forced herself to pay attention to what Fitz was doing. She heard him mumble to himself as he wrote – things like _at least once a week_ and _safe word_ and _birth control_ and (his breath hitched slightly and Jemma unconsciously squeezed her thighs together) _mutual satisfaction_. With that, Fitz scribbled his name and the date next to the addendum. He handed her the pen, and she didn’t even read what he wrote before she scratched her own name illegibly below his signature. 

They then stared at each other for a long, long moment. Jemma felt the wide smile on her face, her lips twitching with the desire to say _something_. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and they both rocked ever so slightly forward, as if magnets were drawing them closer, and then he backed away. 

“I should – I need to go to the bathroom.”

Jemma nodded, disappointed yet understanding. They needed to slow things down.

“Dinner?” she asked, trying to sound normal but it came out breathless. 

“’Kay. Chinese.” 

And then he stood and made his way past her. Jemma twisted to watch him walk away, smiling at his awkward gait. Leaning back against the couch cushions, she lifted one hand to her lips, which were wet and swollen with the kisses he had given her. She wondered what exactly he was doing in the bathroom, her guess even more likely when he turned the sink faucet on full blast, presumably to drown out the noise. With a groan, she turned to her side, curling up to a fetal position. She stuck one hand between her legs, pressing the seam of her jeans into another set of wet and swollen lips and fought the urge to rub her fingers hard against the denim. 

“One week,” she whispered to herself. She broke into disbelieving giggles.

**

“Excuse me.”

They both spoke at the same time, stepping to one side and then the other as they tried to get past each other to their respective lab benches. Things had been a bit weird at work, to say the least. Finally, they figured out which directions to go and Jemma made it to her station. It took her four tries to pull one glove out of the box. She glanced at Fitz, hoping he hadn’t seen her clumsiness. Judging by the way he looked quickly in the other direction, he had been watching. Jemma tried not to feel embarrassed. 

Instead she pulled the gloves on. One accidentally snapped against her wrist, and she winced.

Fitz suddenly excused himself again and walked quickly out of the lab, holding his tablet in front of him. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he had the same waddle he had the other night, when he had been unbearably hard. 

“Is everything OK with you two?”

Jemma jumped a bit at the unexpected question, and turned to look at Sally Weber, who had apparently still not outgrown her gossiping nature from the Academy.

“Everything’s fine. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve just been weird the last couple days. Trouble in paradise?”

“Absolutely not,” Jemma replied, somewhat haughtily offended, and returned to her work.

**

They had sat like this any number of times over the years they had known each other, even before they had married. But Jemma had never realized before just how nice it felt to curl up next to him while they watched telly, her head on his chest and his arm either wrapped around her shoulders or, like it was now, resting on her thigh, his hand lightly squeezing her knee.

And yet, despite the familiarity, she felt unusually nervous. Because now she knew what it felt like to make out with him. Now, she had felt his arms around her, his hands on her body, in different ways. And they were still only a little over halfway there. Jemma shifted her weight at the thought. Three more days. 

“Everything OK?” Fitz murmured, eyes glued to the screen.

“Mm-hmm,” she confirmed. It almost sounded truthful. 

She sensed him glance at her. A moment later, he moved, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV. Dislodged from her position, she stared at him, anxious and optimistic. 

“Do you want to…um – ” he gestured nervously between them.

“Oh! Yes.”

“You do?!”

“ _Practice?_ ”

“Yeah.”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “That sounds lovely.”

“Right. OK. So…” 

After a brief hesitation, he leaned forward as if to kiss her. Jemma unexpectedly leaned back, and Fitz stopped, clearly worried he’d done something wrong. 

“How about…in the bedroom?” she asked, surprised at her boldness. 

Fitz’s mouth dropped open, and he didn’t seem capable of words, but he nodded in agreement. Jemma beamed, then stood on suddenly shaky legs. She reminded herself that they weren’t going all the way – yet. They were just warming up. 

She sensed him right behind her, and she paused for what felt like an eon, uncertain which room to head to. She felt strangely like it was a much bigger decision than it should be. She’d feel more comfortable, probably, in her own space, but she’d be able to escape more easily from his, if she felt the need to do so. And, perhaps most important of all, she knew there were the condoms in the drawer of her small bedside table. If she wanted to, she could pull them out. Take that step now, rather than waiting as they had planned. Jemma swallowed. 

Then she led the way to Fitz’s bedroom. 

As soon as she cleared the door and automatically flipped on the light, she spun to face him, nearly tripping over her own feet. Fitz stumbled but caught himself, even as he reached his arms out to support her as she tried to find her balance. Once she had, his goal changed, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her smoothly into a kiss.

Jemma exhaled sharply, feeling her body go boneless. She lifted her arms, sliding her hands up his chest, onto his shoulders, and ultimately to his head, where she threaded her fingers into his hair. He moaned at the sensation, prompting Jemma to smile against his mouth even as she tried to deepen their kiss.

With that he started walking, driving her backwards to the bed. She felt her way blindly, familiar with the room from the random times she’d been in there before and trusting Fitz to guide her safely. Even then, she hit the bed earlier than she expected, and she sat down perhaps less gracefully than she would have liked. She used the position to focus on untucking his shirt. She worked at the bottom buttons first, and when he realized what she was doing, he started working down from the top. Soon, they had it open, revealing his lean but surprisingly muscular torso. Jemma stretched up, sliding her hands along his skin and under the shirt, at least until he stripped it off and dropped it to the floor. 

He half-knelt on the bed, bending down to kiss her even as he hooked his hands under her arms and pulled her farther back. When they lowered down, they were lined up perfectly and Jemma relished in the weight of his body on top of hers. For a little while. And then she pushed at his shoulder. He rolled easily, shifting around to get comfortable as she climbed over and straddled him. They never stopped kissing through the whole process, but they did groan into each other’s mouths when she dropped fully onto him and their lower bodies came into contact. 

Jemma wondered briefly if it would be playing with fire to take off the rest of their clothes. Maybe if she left her knickers on? As she thought about it, she scratched her nails over his chest, one catching a nipple and prompting a gasp from Fitz. At the very least – yes. She sat up, never once stopping the motion of her hips against his, and peeled her top off. She looked down at him, smirking as his eyes and attention zoomed straight to her chest. His hands twitched, fingers digging into the flare of her waist, as she unhooked the clasp of her bra and tossed it to the side.

And then Fitz moved quickly, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her fully, drawing her into a hug and burying his face in her cleavage. Jemma moaned, the sound loud and guttural in the room, and she clutched at his head, holding him in place. 

They rocked together harder and faster, Jemma pivoting every once in a while to get a better drag of his hard cock along her crotch. She bent her head down, using her hands to tilt his own up again, capturing him in a desperate and uncoordinated kiss. 

Suddenly, Fitz broke away, resting his forehead against her clavicle as he fought for breath. He held onto her hips, halting her movement.

“Stop,” he muttered. “Stop. Stop.”

“What’s wrong?” Jemma breathed out, still too aroused to be too worried. 

“I’m going to come in my pants.”

Jemma chuckled, running her hand soothingly through his hair. “We don’t have to stop,” she pointed out, before she could chicken out. “We could take them off and…keep going.”

Fitz exhaled roughly, tilting his head to look up at her again. He seemed as tempted as she felt. Then he closed his eyes and sighed.

“We have three days,” he reminded her.

Jemma caressed his face, prompting him to open his eyes. They were incredibly blue, despite the dilated pupils. “We agreed on satisfaction, _whatever that means in the moment_ ,” she argued. “I don’t think either of us would be satisfied if I stay here alone while you have a wank in the bathroom again.”

He looked embarrassed that Jemma had figured out what he’d done the other night, so she gave him a soft smile to ease the sting. At any rate, he quickly got over it to focus on the matter at hand.

“I don’t know if I can keep touching you and not – ” he concluded his confession with a significant nod at his lap. 

Jemma stayed silent for a moment, thinking. She suspected that concern was true for her as well. Soon, she hit on a solution. 

“So, we don’t touch each other.”

“Huh?”

“We touch ourselves,” she clarified.

Fitz’s eyebrow raised, the blush returning to his cheeks. “I – Pardon?”

“We watch each other get ourselves off.”

“Are you – you’re serious?”

Jemma nodded, shifting a bit in his lap as her excitement for the idea grew. And that movement helped her realize that, hesitation or no, Fitz was feeling excited about her proposition too. 

“OK,” he agreed, lifting up again to give her one more kiss. “You first,” he suggested. 

Jemma nodded, unable to argue. Besides, he would need to calm down a bit if he was going to last at all, and she no doubt would need more time with just her fingers, even if she already was raring to go. Pressing her knees onto the mattress, Jemma lifted herself off his lap to both of their relief and disappointment. Even as she moved, she fumbled with her button and zip. She flopped somewhat gracelessly to the side as a result of pushing her clothes down and off while simultaneously attempting to stretch out sensuously in front of him. It wasn’t until she kicked her legs enough to get her jeans and knickers off that she realized she was completely nude in front of him for the first time. The glare of the light above her felt far too exposing, and she fought the urge to try to cover herself with her hands. 

Fitz stared for a beat. Finally, he swallowed, moving his eyes from her body to meet her eyes. “You look – can I say that?” 

“Sure,” Jemma allowed with a smile.

“Just – beautiful. And incredibly sexy.”

Her smile grew wider but she didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t know how much of that was due to his arousal or her nudity. And she didn’t know if observations like that risked the no-strings-attached nature of their arrangement. She didn’t let herself think about that, though, or about how humiliating this might be if she couldn’t come, as she hadn’t been able to recently. But that was unlikely to be the case, because she _did_ think about the way he was looking at her, the way his breath shuddered with each of her movements, and the way his hands gripped the sheets so he wouldn’t touch her or maybe himself. 

Jemma sighed, licked her dry lips and settled her shoulders against the pillow. She tilted her head towards Fitz, maintaining eye contact for as long as she could. She traced her fingertips down her neck and between her breasts and across her stomach, dragging the process out as much as she could but desperate enough to speed up towards the end. She was wetter than she ever remembered being and her fingers slid easily across her folds. Jemma gasped, straightened her fingers, and began to rub her clit with more force. 

She had trouble keeping her eyes open then, but every time she forced her eyelids apart again, she saw Fitz either staring at her fingers and her hips undulating in time with her strokes, or staring at her face. Whenever they caught each other’s gaze, she had to let her own eyes close again, because the intensity of his expression was overwhelming. She sensed more than saw him bending closer and closer, as if he were being drawn to her without even realizing it. His mouth was open; his own breathing raw. Jemma could see the muscles of his forearms twitching as if he wanted to touch her, and she spared a glance to his crotch. He had at some point managed to remove his trousers, but his briefs were still on; the fabric was turning dark and damp where the head of his cock jutted. 

Jemma closed her eyes again, biting her lower lip and exhaling roughly through her nose as she inserted two fingers inside herself. She stopped squeezing her breast with her other hand, bringing it down. The angle was slightly imperfect, but she managed to press the heel of her palm against her clit, and placed her other hand on top to apply pressure as she continued to finger herself. She pressed inside as much as she could, crooking the fingers along her inner walls. She was so close already, she could barely believe it. The sound of her breathing, interspersed by occasional high-pitched squeaks, seemed overwhelmingly loud. She planted her feet on the mattress and lifted her hips, grinding up against her hands and finally, thankfully came. She turned her head away from him at the last minute, feeling too vulnerable as she rode out her climax.

Eventually, though, she began to calm, her breath slowing if still something of a wheeze. She forced her eyes open and turned to stare at Fitz, who looked stunned. 

“That was – Jemma, you – ”

She smiled but couldn’t respond before he was suddenly kissing her again. Jemma moaned, reaching both hands up to press them to his cheeks despite the fact they were wet with her arousal. Fitz didn’t seem to mind; he even pulled back from the kiss to trap her fingers in his mouth and taste her. Jemma hummed in delight and need. 

“Now you,” she managed to say. 

“I’m not gonna last long after that,” he warned, even as he pushed his pants down. Jemma quickly shook her head to indicate it didn’t matter, and then she grinned when he placed a palm in front of her mouth.

Following the wordless instructions, she opened wide, licking and sucking along his palm, working up saliva to get it wet. Then she looked down, tilting her head to watch as he added to the lubrication by cupping his hand briefly over the head of his cock and swiping at the fluid there. He propped himself on his side then, bracing his weight with the elbow of his free arm. Keeping himself in Jemma’s full view, he began to stroke himself at a demanding pace, too far gone to try for any finesse. 

“Oh,” Jemma said unconsciously, imagining his hand was her, that she was the one being driven into again and again.

She couldn’t wait. 

She watched, twisting towards him slightly and licking her lips, as his movements turned jerky and his toes curled and a flush of arousal spread across his bare chest. 

“Jemma,” he murmured, and she couldn’t tell if it was a warning, a plea, an apology or even conscious at all. 

“It’s OK,” she whispered, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. 

He curled in on himself, grunting as he came into his fist. It was the one of the sexiest things Jemma had ever seen. She wanted to respond in the way he had earlier, kissing him and sucking his release off his fingers, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to. It felt, strangely, like it would be some point of no return for her. 

Instead she waited until his breath had slowed and he finally forced his eyes open to look at her. Jemma smiled brightly. 

“Satisfaction achieved?” her tone was a little teasing. They clearly both knew each other’s answer to that question. 

He laughed, but after a moment he looked down at himself with a grimace. “I need to clean up,” he declared.

Jemma nodded. For a moment, she was tempted to stay where she was. Ask him to bring a damp towel for her and then curl up and sleep the rest of the night right there, perhaps with one of those deceptively muscular arms wrapped around her and holding her close against him.

But that didn’t feel right. They weren’t together, after all. They – what did Fitz say, what had she asked him for? – scratched an itch. Sleeping together was something couples did. Jemma had her own bedroom for a reason. 

With a groan, Jemma sat up. “I should go,” she declared. 

Fitz was halfway off the bed. He stopped and turned to face her. “Yeah?” For a moment, she thought he sounded disappointed. “No, yeah. Of course.”

She moved quickly, feeling very self-conscious in her nudity as she gathered up her clothes. Once she had them all, she straightened uncomfortably. She shifted weight from one foot to the other. 

“Well…thank you, I guess,” she finally said. She tried not to cringe. _Thank you?_ What did _that_ mean?

But Fitz only laughed, somewhat self-deprecatingly. “Pleasure was all mine.”

“No. It was definitely mutual.”

With that, she ran from the room, a little too embarrassed to see or hear his response. 

The next three days were going to be torture.


	3. Chapter 3

Jemma smiled and waved at Fitz when he walked through the door. Then she pointed at the phone in her other hand and mouthed _my parents_.

Fitz nodded, moving quietly so as not to interrupt. He slipped his keys into the small bowl on the table by the door, then started making his way towards the kitchen to put away the food he had just bought. He slowed down though, when he heard Jemma say his name.

“Fitz just got home, so I should – ”

He smiled to himself when Jemma was cut off. He knew too well how much her parents could drag out their monthly calls. Almost as bad as his own mum. 

“Oh, things are – things are going really well.”

Fitz involuntarily stopped in his tracks. He looked at Jemma, not even trying to pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping. She met his gaze, her eyes teasing yet heated. She bit her lower lip, and Fitz breathed out unsteadily.

“Perfect husband, as usual,” she continued. “Very…attentive.”

He had to forcefully remind himself that they didn’t know. They had agreed early on that his mum and Jemma’s parents and especially her little old grandmother would never stand for a sham marriage. They were under the impression that everything was as it appeared, and had yet to fully forgive them for the courthouse wedding rather than the church and large party her parents would have preferred.

“Yes, I’m happier than ever,” Jemma responded to some unknown question. 

Fitz lifted his eyes to her again, swallowing thickly when he saw she was still staring back at him. Her free hand rested low on her stomach, the fingers tracing slow circles around her navel. Fitz was immediately thrown back a couple days to the experience of watching her touch herself, of seeing those same fingers press inside her and knowing it would be his dick soon.

Less than 24 hours now. Fitz blinked, looking away and hurrying into the kitchen. It wouldn’t do to sport a stiffy when she was on the phone with her parents. 

He began unpacking the sack of food, taking great care not to drop the bottle of wine he’d bought for the next night. While he suspected they wouldn’t need any liquid courage after everything they’d, well, practiced so far, and also that they wouldn’t want to take the time beforehand, it would be nice to have a little something after they’d been together. 

Fitz closed his eyes and pressed his lips together tightly. He was really quite pleased at Jemma’s suggestion regarding the change in their – arrangement. They were both busy people after all, and it was hard to find _companionship_ , even though they both knew they were free to do so, if they wanted. They worked together so swimmingly, though, and they rarely had any real disagreements at home, either. It only made sense to add this aspect into their lives too. They were both mature, responsible adults. They talked it through carefully and knew what they were getting into. Jemma made it very clear that it didn’t have to mean anything. 

It was just…part of their deal. 

Fitz gripped the counter with both hands. He stepped backwards so he could lean his head down as he exhaled. Less than 24 hours now.

**

Jemma managed to last all the way until 4:00 before she peeled her gloves off, and told Sally she and Fitz were sneaking out early for the weekend. Fitz looked surprised, but completely eager and willing to play along. He had a bit of a lead foot as he drove them home, and Jemma cursed under her breath at each red light. But finally, they were home. Fitz blindly unlocked the door as Jemma sucked on his neck and pulled at his shirttails, but he managed to get it open, them both inside, and the door locked again. Jemma was very proud of him.

She opened her mouth to tell him so, but ended up saying “Bedroom!” instead.

“Whose?” Fitz gasped, sliding his hands down to her arse, then bunching up the loose fabric of her blouse in his fists. 

He tugged her lower body closer, grinding against her. Jemma clung to him, mouth open as she panted in pleasure and hands gripping his shoulders as she rode out the sensation. “I don’t care,” she finally managed to respond.

“Yours. Closer.”

“Oh! Yes. You’re so smart.” 

She was pretty sure she was just babbling nonsense at that point. He didn’t seem to mind, though, as he pushed her in the right direction. Jemma kicked off her shoes on the way, grateful that she had worn slip-on flats that day. It took him a little longer and a brief pause to toe his own shoes off, and Jemma used the time to unfasten his trousers and slip her hand inside to wrap around him. Fitz bit off a moan, abortively thrusting into her fist, and then reached down to pull her hand away. Jemma whined in protest for a brief moment, and then focused on her own clothes. 

Through an amazing feat of teamwork – they truly did work wonderfully together – they both were naked except for his briefs and her knickers by the time they arrived at Jemma’s bedroom. Fitz unsurprisingly had unhooked her bra as soon as her shirt had come off, and he was currently bent at an odd angle as he sucked at the flesh and pulled gently on her nipple with his teeth. He massaged her other breast, while pressing his free hand into the small of her back to hold her as close as possible.

Jemma reached down, hooking her index fingers over the elastic band of his briefs and tugging him the last few steps to her bed. She fell onto the foot of the mattress with a slight bounce, then crawled backwards until she was on it fully. She smiled, laughing lightly, as Fitz reached out and grabbed hold of her knickers. He slid them off her and down her legs, tossing them onto the floor. And then he pushed his own pants down so he too was naked. 

Jemma bit her lip but was unable to stop the sound of hunger she involuntarily made. Fitz shot her a heated look, then knelt onto the bed and crawled towards her. Jemma immediately reached out, wrapping her arms and legs around him and pulling them both down.

They groaned in harmony as they came into contact, and Fitz buried his face in her neck even as he rocked against her in slick frottage. 

“I can’t wait any longer,” Jemma begged, breathless. 

Fitz forced his head up, looking into her eyes, but still moving at the same relentless pace. Jemma spread her legs slightly, hissing as his cock slid across her opening at a new angle. 

“Are you sure we don’t need – ”

“We waited a whole – ”

Fitz nodded, and then shifted his weight to his left elbow. Jemma adjusted her hips, giving him room as he reached down to grab hold of himself and line them up. Unexpectedly, though, she reached out and gripped his arm before he could enter her.

“Nothing – nothing’s going to change, right?”

Fitz looked at her, his expression a touch hesitant. And then he swallowed and nodded. “Right,” he confirmed. “Still best friends.”

Jemma smiled a bit shakily and nodded. “OK. Go – go slow.”

Fitz exhaled, dropping his head to watch as he pushed inside her. Jemma closed her eyes, wincing yet relishing the stretch. It was obviously wider than her fingers or vibrator or anything else she had tried to make do with over the last several years. She still couldn’t quite believe this was happening, couldn’t believe it had taken them so long to hit upon such an ideal modification to their already perfect situation. When he was buried inside her completely, Jemma forced her eyes open. He was staring down at her, waiting. Jemma exhaled sharply, smiled widely and then felt her eyes roll back as he pulled out of her slightly and pushed back in.

“Yes,” she breathed. She dug her nails into his shoulder blades. 

He moved steadily then, bending down to kiss her, but still considerate of her request to go slow. As she became used to the feeling of him inside her, she soon realized she wanted – needed more. To enhance her already tight entrance, she shifted their legs around, closing her own and forcing his to the outside. Fitz groaned at that, thrusting harder and faster in response. Jemma felt her own breath get heavier as the pressure on her clit intensified. 

She reached both arms behind herself, arching her back slightly and grabbing hold of the poles of her headboard. “More,” she mumbled against Fitz’s lips.

He obeyed without question, adding his own hand just above hers and holding tight as he dug his knees into the mattress and increased the force of his thrusts. Her breasts bounced each time their hips slotted together, and Fitz looked down at her. Jemma laughed breathlessly, knowing her current position showed them off in a way he would more than appreciate, and she could tell by the sounds he made that he wouldn’t last much longer. 

She squeezed her legs together even more, trying to catch up to him. With a frustrated growl, she rocked her hips up as best she could, grinding against him more with each thrust. He intuitively seemed to know what she was after, though, and he moved his free hand down to rub circles against her clit with his thumb.

Jemma cried out into his mouth, loudly, and their movements turned erratic. She spared a thought of gratitude that her bedroom did not share any walls with neighbors. The volume of their coupling and the repetitive knocking of the bed frame against the wall did not leave much to the imagination.

“Fuck!” Fitz exclaimed, pressing into her deep as he came. 

In a moment of desperation, Jemma released her grip on the headboard poles and dropped both hands to his arse. She squeezed the flesh there, pushing down and taking him in even farther as she lifted her own hips flush against him. Her orgasm crashed over her, and she could hear herself shouting out in ecstasy as if from a distance. She collapsed then, heaving for breath and exhausted, with Fitz right on top of her, still letting out small, stunned moans.

**

Fitz didn’t – couldn’t – move for a long time, but finally, as he started to soften inside of her, he pushed up and away. Jemma’s small mewl as he pulled out of her was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard.

“Satisfied?” he asked, only half-teasing. When she didn’t respond though, he began to feel worried. “Jemma, did you – ?”

“Yes,” she breathed out, not even opening her eyes. “Oh, Fitz.” 

He felt a bolt of pride and – something else he refused to name, as he stared down at her and realized how truly sated she was. He tried to decide what to do next. What would she want. What was most appropriate. 

He didn’t want to mess anything up and make her change her mind, because he didn’t think he could go back to their happy and productive, yet sexless, partnership after this. He definitely wanted to do this as long as they were able to, as long as she’d let him, until she found the man she really did want to marry. 

Fitz didn’t want to identify the emotion he felt at that thought, so he forced himself up until he was seated at the side of the bed. 

“Be right back,” he muttered. 

When he returned, wiped off and wearing fresh boxers, a damp towel and glass of water for her in hand, she was still in bed and apparently hadn’t even moved a muscle. Fitz sat on the edge, leaning forward to place the glass on the nightstand and feeling awkward about what to do with the towel.

“Here,” he finally said.

Jemma turned her face towards him, opening her eyes and smiling a moment later.

“Thank you.” 

Her voice was still deep with tired bliss, and rough from shouting out so much. Fitz felt an improbable twitch of interest and fought an almost unbearable urge to lean down and kiss her. It didn’t feel like the right thing to do now, after they had – completed their business. Fitz swallowed and looked away briefly. Then he faced her again, forcing a smile and handing her the towel. He stood, drying his hand off on his boxers. 

“Do you want to order something? Pizza?”

“OK.”

“We could watch a movie.”

“Sounds good.” 

He left her then, unable or unwilling to remain in the room for any longer. The first thing he did when he reached the kitchen was bypass the take-out menus for the wine rack. He opened the bottle he had bought the night before, poured a generous glassful and drank half of it in one go.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself.

**

“Good morning!” Jemma greeted Fitz enthusiastically as she walked into the kitchen the next day.

She had slept fantastically, although she felt deliciously sore this morning. She was certain part of it was the amazing orgasm and the lack of sexual frustration and tension that had been building in her for so long. But she suspected another reason was the relief that nothing had changed, just as they promised each other. She had been more than a little concerned that things inevitably would, but the rest of their evening had seemed like any other Friday night since they had been married or even indeed since they had become best friends, with dinner and telly and joking around with each other as they de-stressed from the work week. 

It had been silly to worry, but she was relieved nonetheless. They could continue to pursue this more than satisfactory new direction in their agreement, and they would still have each other’s backs at the end of the day. Once again, Jemma was reminded how short-sighted S.H.I.E.L.D. was to enforce their pointless anti-fraternization policy anyway. She wondered how many marvelous partnerships were broken up, just because their bosses thought two grown adults couldn’t separate sex from the rest of their lives. Thankfully, she and Fitz had discovered all the loopholes they needed, even when they gambled on their own value to S.H.I.E.L.D. by playing chicken with a marriage license.

Fitz turned to smile at her greeting. Saturdays were lazy mornings when it came to breakfast, but he had pulled out her preferred cereal while making his own toast. Jemma bumped her shoulder against his arm as she stepped up next to him. She turned to smile at him a bit impishly, and felt a little tingle in her gut at the expression in his eyes. 

“Fitz…” she began slowly.

“Hmm?”

“Just – we did say _at least_ once a week, right?”

She looked up at him waiting for his response. He was silent and still for a beat, staring back into her eyes. And then he moved, pushing her a few steps over to the kitchen island with unexpected speed and force. Jemma yelped, the sound getting lost against his mouth as he kissed her. Moments later, she let out a small _meep_ of surprise as he lifted her onto the island itself, blindly tugging open her robe and sliding his hand up and under the t-shirt she wore as pajamas. Jemma hissed as his hand made contact with her crotch, more sensitive from the previous night than she had realized but not too sensitive to stop him now. He massaged her with a sort of tender roughness, and Jemma gasped into his mouth as she moved her own hands to the tie of his pajama bottoms. 

Soon she had him freed, and he supported her weight as he pulled her forward, just off the edge of the island. Jemma wrapped her arms and legs around him as he entered her with a firm push, more than helped out by gravity. She hugged him tightly, pressing her breasts against his chest and murmuring nonsense encouragement in his ear as he began to move. 

Honestly. A perfectly functional relationship like theirs could handle sex just fine.


	4. Chapter 4

When she saw her mom’s name on the phone screen a few days later, Jemma felt incredibly nervous. They usually only talked once a month in an effort to keep charges from international rates down. An unexpected call could mean someone died or…

“Hello?” Jemma answered warily. 

It turned out she had been right to be concerned. No relative or family friend had died, but Jemma’s parents had been talking since their last conversation and decided it had been far too long since they’d seen her in person. 

“Fitz!” Jemma called out as soon as she hung up. 

Under ordinary circumstances, it would be no big deal. Her parents and his mum had both been out once or twice since they’d married, and they’d gone home a couple times too. She and Fitz had a system worked out, and they had never had a problem sharing a bed for a short while before. But this would be the first visit since they’d added the physical intimacy…clause and so it was hardly ordinary circumstances. Especially because they had apparently made some sort of unspoken agreement to never share a bed now. Well, to sleep, at any rate.

The door to Fitz’s room popped open and he leaned his head out. “What is it?”

“My parents are coming to visit. They got a great deal on tickets and will be here next week.”

Fitz did not seem to realize the crisis situation they were in. He grinned. “Great! You must be excited. It’s been a while.”

“Wha – but…”

“We maybe should think about going out there soon. My mum’s been dropping hints like crazy.”

“Fitz!”

His brow furrowed. “Huh?”

Jemma wrung her hands together. “You aren’t – you don’t think it will be weird?”

“No, why – oh. No.” He glanced down briefly before making eye contact again. “We’ve managed before. And nothing’s changed, right?”

“No,” Jemma confirmed, much more breezily than she felt. He was right, of course. “Nothing’s changed.”

Fitz shot her a quick smile. “I’ll move my stuff around tomorrow.”

“OK.”

Jemma turned around and started walking away, stopping only when he called out her name. She turned to him again, noting that he seemed rather embarrassed.

“We’ll probably want to, um, reschedule though, while they’re here?”

“Oh! Definitely, yeah.” 

She gave an exaggerated shudder at the thought of being _with_ someone while her parents were only a few rooms away. Definitely not. 

The next day, she cleared space in her closet and dresser so Fitz could move his clothes and a few other items over. When they had first found the place, back when they were just roommates fresh out of the Academy, Fitz had graciously given her the master bedroom with attached bath, and they decided the second largest room would have to be their office in order to fit both desks and all their books and equipment. His room was rather small, but it worked fine as a fake guest room in a pinch, and it was very close to the bathroom he usually used and which her parents would use while they were here. Thankfully, he kept things pretty minimal – clothes and toiletries and a few pictures, mostly of them and his mum – and it didn’t take long to move him in. 

It did take longer than it normally did, though, because they got distracted and _rescheduled_ on top of his clothes they were supposed to be folding. Then they did the laundry, put away his freshly clean clothes and, well, rescheduled again.

**

In all the excitement with the upcoming visit, they almost forgot about the annual research awards and celebration dinner hosted by Sci-Ops. Fellow Academy graduates came from all over – the Sandbox, the Treehouse, everywhere – and the higher-ups in S.H.I.E.L.D. also made an appearance.

Such events, like the holiday party and birthday lunches or even colleagues’ and relatives’ weddings, always made things a little awkward. They could get away with behaving completely normally on a daily basis – they were at work and professionals. But they knew it would look odd not to seem like a real couple at more social gatherings. A whole section of their marriage contract outlined the kinds of PDA they would be expected to engage in. Fitz’s arm around her waist. The occasional kiss to the cheek or peck to the corners of each other’s mouths. She would rest her hand on his elbow or shoulder, whichever seemed more natural. He would fetch her drinks and give her his suit jacket at the end of the night. They would dance _once_ (it had taken a lot of argument on her side to even get that, but she could usually sneak in even more if he had enough to drink or if there were other men interested in filling up her dance card and Fitz pretended to be jealous). 

She remembered how uncomfortable it had felt the first time. She couldn’t believe anyone had fallen for it. But it felt natural and yet new that night. She knew she leaned a bit closer to him than she normally did. And she never used to trace her fingertips in swirls over the back of his hand and wrist before, when they sat listening to the speeches. He had always kept his hands firmly in PG territory when they danced, but that night, they slipped almost too low on her bum for polite company. 

But she supposed the biggest change of all was when she found herself with arms braced against the door of the coat closet, holding it shut as he took her from behind.

**

“It’s going to be fine,” Fitz said, for possibly the twentieth time since they left the flat for the airport.

He reached out and grabbed Jemma’s hand, preventing her from picking at her nails any more than she already had. He felt somewhat surprised when she intertwined their fingers and gripped tight. He recovered quickly, though, and gave her a supportive squeeze.

The moment didn’t last. A group of passengers entered the baggage claim area, and a _Jemma, darling!_ rung out from somewhere in the middle of the pack. Jemma dropped his hand quickly, and Fitz tried not to feel disappointed. 

He couldn’t help but smile though, as Jemma ran to hug her parents. As worried as she was – and they certainly always seemed to pressure her a little harder than he felt was necessary; she had two PhDs by age 17, what else did they want? – he knew she was happy to see them too. 

They were talking over each other by the time Fitz caught up. Jemma’s mum was lifting the ends of her hair, commenting on the cut Jemma got a few months ago. Fitz nodded at her dad, sharing a quick eyeroll as they shook hands. Things happened fast after that, with Jemma’s mum noticing him and pulling him into a hug. She kissed him on each cheek, made her usual comment about how skinny he looked and wasn’t Jemma making sure he ate – not cook for him, mind you, she was a modern professional woman, not some Stepford wife. After that, they grabbed the luggage and battled the flow of cars heading out and finally made it back to the flat. 

It was at dinner that first night when Fitz realized what else they could possibly want from Jemma, what they would pressure her about during this trip, once they’d confirmed that professionally, she was as incredibly successful and incredibly happy as she always told them she was. The first thinly veiled hint about grandchildren sent Fitz into a coughing fit. Jemma patted his back, her own face turning pale before flushing a bright red. Nonetheless, she managed to calmly inform her mother that children were a long way off for them. 

The lack of a complete dismissal made Fitz reach for his wine. When she added “I’ve told you that before,” he glugged the rest of the glass. 

But he had promised Jemma things wouldn’t be weird. And so, when it came time to turn in, he quickly pulled on his pajamas while she changed in her bathroom. Then he crawled into bed, leaving her preferred side open. 

Jemma emerged from the bathroom, wearing boxers and an old t-shirt of his. Despite or because of that, she looked incredibly sexy, and Fitz had to remind himself they were abstaining while the Simmonses were in town. So he just shot her a friendly smile and scooted down on the mattress until his head rested on the pillow. 

Jemma turned back the blankets on her side of the bed, then slid under them. 

“Good night, Fitz,” she finally said, turning to her side so she faced away from him. 

“G’night, Jemma,” he replied, twisting to turn off the lamp. 

The room plunged into darkness, and her breath suddenly seemed louder. Fitz shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable even as he held his limbs stiffly on his side of the bed. They had done this a handful of times over the years and had never had a problem before. They could do it now. 

He closed his eyes, sighed, and tried not to think about how the week that her parents were there would be the longest stretch of time they went without sex since they began having it.

**

Jemma scrunched her face in protest of waking up. Her body was betraying her; it was still – she turned her head and pried one eye open to peer at the clock – two hours before they’d have to wake up to get her parents to the airport on time. The sun wasn’t even thinking about rising yet, and here she was, awake. Jemma sighed, closed her eyes, and hugged Fitz tighter as she snuggled back into the space between his neck and shoulder.

It was only then she realized how else her body had betrayed her. They had been doing fine that whole visit, keeping to their respective sides of the bed and platonically sleeping together as they always had done before. But now here they were, on their sides facing each other and completely wrapped up in each other’s limbs. She could feel his warm breath puff against her face with each exhalation that wasn’t quite a snore. 

She could feel his half-hard cock trapped snugly against her stomach. 

Torn for a brief moment, Jemma almost gave in and cuddled even closer. But then she remembered herself, remembered her parents were just down the hall and she could easily wait a few hours before they were able to…get back on their contracted schedule. She shook her head and began to slowly extract herself from his embrace.

Fitz grumbled, pulling her closer, and Jemma paused. And then suddenly – and she didn’t know how she could tell this in the dark room – he was awake. He didn’t tense up from embarrassment, and his breath only changed slightly, but there was something different about the energy in the room.

“Jemma?” he whispered.

“It’s early,” she replied, equally quiet. She stroked a hand along his arm. “Go back to sleep.”

But the way she instinctively pressed her hips against him, the way his cock grew to full hardness, the way his leg slid between hers and she immediately, mindlessly rubbed herself along his thigh, she suspected that wasn’t going to happen. 

“Jemma,” he repeated, his voice still quiet but deeper and thick with desire. 

She tilted her face up and he found her lips in the dark. She hadn’t realized it was possible to miss his kisses that much in just a few days. They worked together as silently as possible, biting back moans. Jemma carefully lifted the elastic band of his pajama bottoms up and around his cock, pushing the fabric down as far as she could while still keeping their mouths together. 

Bringing her hand up to his arse, she squeezed, grinning at his muffled response. He recovered soon, though, and went to work at her own bottoms. He slid them to her thighs and then Jemma took over, twisting and contorting as she pushed them farther down and ultimately kicked them off. Immediately, she lifted one leg, hooking it high over his hip, spreading herself open as she skimmed her hand up his back and hugged him tighter. 

Fitz bent his top leg, planting the foot on the mattress for leverage as he pushed into her. Jemma’s breath shuddered and she turned into him even more. Her heel ended up just barely wedged between the cheeks of his bum, and she wiggled her foot, encouraging him to continue. They stopped kissing, instead just keeping their faces close as they moved together slowly, the mattress creaking in time to the beat of their joining. Jemma kept her eyes closed, afraid for some reason that she’d be able to meet his even through the darkness and she wouldn’t know how to handle what she might see in them. Afraid of what her own might reveal. 

A silly fear best left to the quiet, black night, of course. Nothing had changed between them. 

That was thankfully more than apparent when, hours later, after they had stifled all the noises they made as they came, after they slept more and the alarm woke them up at a still early but more reasonable time, after they’d driven her parents to the airport and hugged them goodbye, after they’d bickered good-naturedly all the way home, they just settled on their respective ends of the couch, sharing sections of the Sunday paper and reading quietly in friendly companionship.

That afternoon, they moved his things back to his room, and by that night, everything was back to normal. They made dinner together, talking about their plans for the upcoming work week. They watched some telly, cuddled up on the couch. They snogged throughout the whole sports section of the evening news, and were fucking frantically on the floor by the time the weather came on, giving themselves carpet burn they would no doubt later regret. After they cleaned themselves up and washed their dishes from dinner, they said good night, and Fitz went to his room and Jemma went to hers. It took her a while to fall asleep that night, and her bed seemed strangely big without Fitz, but she simply told herself that it was nice to have her own space again, and as glad as she was to see her parents, it was good to get back to their regular lives.

**

Jemma paused in her typing to tilt her head first to one side and then the other. She then reached both arms behind herself, grabbing onto one wrist and pushing her chest out to stretch. It was only after she settled back into a normal position that she caught Fitz, who had been carefully drawing plans at his desk, surreptitiously watching her, his mouth slightly open. Jemma fought a smirk, and then let out a calculated moan as she lifted one hand and rubbed at her neck. Fitz pressed his lips together and swallowed.

“What do you want to do this weekend?” he asked suddenly. 

It had not been what she was expecting. (Frankly, she had been expecting a suggestion that they call it a day so he could give her a quote-unquote massage.)

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the last Friday of the month.”

“Oh!” Jemma sat up straighter. 

She wondered how she had lost track of that on her calendar. Date night. She had negotiated it as an addendum eleven months into their marriage. Theoretically, it was to keep up appearances, give them something to talk about at work if Sally or any other gossips asked. But really, it was because Fitz was such a homebody they rarely did anything outside of the flat. He liked to go to the movies to whisper heckles during sci-fi blockbusters, but otherwise he preferred to hang out just the two of them. And Jemma was fine with that for the most part, but she did occasionally like to get dressed up and do something special. 

She felt a little hesitant, though. The awards ceremony aside, this would be their first time out just the two of them since, well, their most recent addendum. And so it felt like there might be a conflict – on one hand, there was the desire to put on nice clothes and go somewhere that might be construed as romantic. On the other hand, there was the need to maintain boundaries between what they might do together _physically_ and everything else in their lives, and going on a “date” might blur those lines. Ultimately, she felt paralyzed by indecision. 

“Jemma?” Fitz prompted.

“Ah…what do you want to do?” she asked, hoping to stall.

“Dinner?” he suggested almost immediately. “Somewhere…nice?”

Jemma didn’t trust her voice at first. She cleared her throat, then swallowed. “Maybe a show or concert afterwards?”

Fitz smiled in agreement. “I’ll look around, make a reservation somewhere.” 

Jemma nodded, happy to let him make the arrangements. She was too busy trying to figure out what to wear. In the end, though, nothing seemed appropriate. And besides, he had seen all of it before. Not that – well, not that she dressed up for _his_ benefit, of course. It just gave her a good excuse to shop for a new dress, was all. 

It didn’t escape her attention, however, that Fitz had put a little extra effort into his appearance that evening too. He was even wearing a suit jacket. Jemma began to think back over the last few weeks, realizing that Fitz had been forgoing his usual plaid shirts and patterned ties for more grown-up looking button-downs in solid colors that really accentuated his eyes. Shirts that he kept loose at the collar to reveal his neck in a way that made her sometimes think about kissing it when she should have been concentrating on her centrifuges. His trousers seemed much more fitted than usual too. Overall, she approved of the change, whatever might have prompted it. She was sure he’d be taken much more seriously at work now.

She didn’t know how she felt about the change in his behavior that night though. Namely, pulling out her chair for her at dinner. Part of her thrilled at the extra courtesy, as unnecessarily chauvinistic as it could have seemed, but another part of her worried that it was _too_ date-like. At least he knew better than to order for her. 

By the end of the dinner, two and a half glasses of wine and a truly scrumptious meal in her belly, she was happy enough to take his offered arm though. They strolled slowly down the sidewalk in the direction of the concert hall, choosing to leave the car in the garage in exchange for the cool evening air. She refused his jacket so he wouldn’t get cold, thankful she had brought a wrap. Her heels were maybe not the smartest idea, though, and she was grateful for his support. When she nearly twisted her right ankle, he shifted to hold her more firmly with one arm around her waist. 

“You OK?” 

“Mmm, fine,” she replied, tilting her head to rest it against his. 

“Too much to drink?” he teased.

“Of course not,” she replied sanctimoniously, ignoring his smirk in reply. “It’s these damn heels and the uneven pavement.”

“Why’d you wear them then? Just to be almost as tall as me?”

“No,” Jemma scoffed, although she wouldn’t deny that she had been known to do that when she was angry at him and wanted to stand her ground during fights. “Because they make my calves and arse look fantastic.”

“Really? Let me see!” he joked, letting her go to step behind her and check her out.

Jemma giggled, looking over her shoulder at him even as she put a little more swing into her stride. “Like you haven’t been looking all night.”

Fitz chuckled, catching up to her in two large steps. He put his arm around her again, and she couldn’t help but notice that he held her a little lower than before. One could even argue he was palming her bum. Jemma chose not to say anything, but she did feel a little disappointed when they arrived at the concert hall and he moved his hand up to a more appropriate location. 

Overall, Date Night was successful, albeit perhaps with slightly more flirtation and physical affection than they ever had engaged in before. By the time they got home, Jemma was more than ready to shift gears and honor a different stipulation in their contract. Fitz was definitely on the same page, tossing his jacket away and pressing her up against the door as soon as they had closed it behind them.

“I really like this dress,” he mumbled against her lips, even as he slowly, sensuously pulled the zip down. 

She shrugged it off her shoulders to reveal the lacy black bra and knickers with matching garter belts she had worn under it on something of a whim, or perhaps the expectation that they’d end up exactly like this. Fitz groaned in desire and dropped to his knees in front of her. He set to work blindly unhooking the lingerie as he sucked love bites to her inner thighs. Jemma’s breath caught, and she realized that Fitz had yet to go down on her. She hoped that was about to change.

Once the belt was off, he slid his hands up again, then tugged her knickers down. They dropped to the floor and Jemma stepped out of them carefully, kicking them and her dress to the side. Fitz leaned in then, placing his warm, wet mouth over her. Jemma’s moans were low and deep, and she lifted one leg, wrapping her knee over his shoulder to open herself up further and resting her foot, still strapped into the pointy heel, near his lower back. She gripped his curls with her fingers, adjusting the angle of his head occasionally to get his lips and tongue to hit just the right spot. 

Her breath was loud in her own ears, overwhelming the slurping sounds below. His fingers dug into her arse as he pulled her closer, forcing her to maintain her balance with her shoulder blades against the door and one wobbly foot on the ground. She managed just long enough, thankful that Fitz was there to catch her after she came with a silent scream and began to sink to the floor. 

Before she knew it, he was carrying her bridal style to her bedroom. Jemma wanted to protest; he hadn’t even done so jokingly the afternoon they’d signed the papers. It didn’t seem right somehow. It certainly didn’t seem right that he laid her carefully in bed, removed the remnants of her clothes, pulled the sheets over her, and then kissed her forehead and stood up as if he were about to leave. 

“Wait, I’ll – but you – ” she mumbled, the wine and long evening and mind-blowing orgasm catching up to her. 

“Mutual satisfaction,” Fitz reminded her softly. “Whatever that might mean in the moment. I’m good.”

She couldn’t quite figure out what he meant by that, but her brain was too fuzzy to try. When she woke up the next morning though, she felt guilt and a strange sort of fear. She wanted to wipe out the red in her ledger as soon as possible.

Fitz was surprised, to say the least, when she joined him in his shower, soaped up her palm and proceeded to give him a handjob, but he certainly didn’t stop her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some (not really graphic) menstruation-related stuff in this that some of you might not be cool with, FYI.

The living room was dark and quiet when Jemma walked into the flat late that Friday night. Fitz had gone home after they grabbed dinner, but she needed to head back to the lab to check on an experiment. Jemma fought a yawn and then listened carefully, smiling when she heard the muffled sound of mindless entertainment coming from his bedroom. She reached under her shirt to unhook and remove her bra, tossed it in the direction of the chair, then detoured into the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of beer, twisting the tops off and dropping them into the sink to properly dispose of later. 

She kicked off her shoes near the kitchen doorway, then scrunched her toes into the hall carpet before padding softly down to his room. She knocked on the door with one of the beer bottles and waited for his quiet _come in_.

He was stretched out on his bed, his laptop resting on his stomach and one sock-covered foot crossed over the other. Jemma smiled at the way he absent-mindedly wiggled his toes. 

“What are you watching?” she asked, crawling onto the bed even as he sat up and repositioned himself, taking one of the beers from her. He took a swig, then placed it next to an empty one on the bedside table.

She leaned back and spotted Mary Berry on the screen as he answered “Bake Off.”

“What are they making?”

“Breads.”

“Ooh. Someone’s going to mess up the proofing.”

Fitz chuckled and they watched silently for a few minutes. Jemma swallowed a gulp of her beer, then reached across him to put her bottle next to his. She rested her head on his shoulder in the usual spot, and sighed. She didn’t know how long he stared at her before she realized he wasn’t paying attention to the show. 

“What is it?” she asked, twisting to look up at him.

Fitz made a face, like he was nervous or worried, and Jemma felt her heart start to beat faster. 

“It’s just – I know it’s Friday and so we’d normally… But – I’m…I’m just really tired.”

Jemma burst into relieved laughter, pressing her forehead against his shoulder as she realized whatever half-formed fears she had been developing were pointless. She looked up at him, smiling wider at his dumbfounded expression.

“It’s OK,” she assured him.

He swallowed. “We said once a – ”

“We said at least once a week, and I’m pretty sure we’ve been averaging daily. We can take the night off.”

“It’s really OK?”

“Yes, Fitz,” Jemma replied, still snickering as she settled back against him and focused on the screen. “I could use a break too; I haven’t been able to sit normally for a month.”

She had meant it as a joke and so was surprised when he paused the feed, moved the computer off his lap and turned to face her. 

“Are you saying I’m hurting you?”

Jemma blinked in surprise at the urgent concern in his voice. Then she placed her hands on his cheeks and held him still as she kissed him. 

“Only in the best possible way.”

Fitz furrowed his brow, inhaling to respond, but Jemma shook her head to cut him off.

“It’s not even really pain,” she clarified. “Just tenderness sometimes. Muscle strain. The occasional bruise or scratch. _Worth it_.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his expression turning quite heated, until she quirked her eyebrows and smiled. And then he moved, pulling her into a heady kiss. For a few moments, Jemma began to wonder whether they would forget what they just agreed to, but eventually their passion cooled. Fitz hummed softly, switching from nibbling her neck to burying his face into the dark groove of the pillow. She went from pressing her hands against his back to keep him close to slowly, soothingly running them up and down the bumps of his spine. 

“Want to watch more of the show?” she murmured.

Fitz just shook his head. 

“’Kay,” she agreed readily. 

She closed her eyes, intent to enjoy the snuggling until it was time to go to her own room for the night.

**

Fitz snuffled a bit, shifting around to get more comfortable. He swallowed to get some moisture in his throat, and then peered through the darkness to see the clock. Three in the morning. He wondered what woke him up at that ungodly hour.

And then he heard his bedroom door creak. He half-turned, looking past the foot of the bed to see Jemma’s silhouette as she slowly closed the door behind her. 

Fitz blinked, rubbed at his eye, and then turned to lie back down. He hugged her pi – not _her_ pillow, just the one she’d been using. It smelled like her, and Fitz breathed in deeply. 

It was weird, how the world seemed sad and lonely when a person woke up in the middle of the night. He was sure things would be fine in the morning.

**

Things were fine in the morning. For him. But when he walked out into the living room, Jemma was curled up on the sofa looking miserable, her arms wrapped around her stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

Jemma sighed. “I’ve started my period.”

Fitz nodded, well aware of how bad the first day of her cycle could be after living together for so long. He walked across the room and climbed over her, ultimately stretching out to spoon behind her. He pressed his knuckles into her lower back and began to massage. Jemma grunted in pained gratitude.

“I thought birth control was supposed to make it easier,” he observed.

“This one might make them stop altogether,” she explained. “But until then, they might be heavier, longer and irregular. _Yaaay_.”

Fitz smiled in sympathy, then leaned forward to kiss her bare shoulder just next to the strap of her pajama tank.

Jemma snorted. “Don’t get any ideas. We’ll be waiting for another couple days.”

“How long?” Fitz asked, grinning. “I have needs, Jemma.”

She reached behind him and smacked his leg. “Don’t make me laugh or it could get really gross here.”

Fitz bit his lip to stop his own laugh, and then they were both silent for a few moments. 

“No, really, how long?” he asked curiously. 

Jemma shook her head. “I actually often get pretty horny around the third day, but don’t worry, I don’t expect you – ”

“OK.”

Fitz felt somewhat surprised when Jemma looked over her shoulder, fixing him with an incredulous expression. 

“Really? _OK_?”

Fitz shrugged. 

“Just last week, you lost your bloody mind about the cat – ”

“Jemma, you put its liver next to my – ”

“And now you’re like _oh, OK_ to plunging your dick into a gory horror show of – ”

“It’s different; it’s just your – ”

“Men and orgasms. Unbelievable.”

Jemma turned away from him then, huffing. Fitz thought quietly for a way to redeem himself in this conversation. Finally, he said, “I read somewhere it helps with cramps.”

“You’re such a giver,” Jemma muttered sarcastically. “We should definitely do it. Right after I go swimming, then run through a meadow wearing a white dress.”

Fitz wisely stayed silent after that, choosing to focus on massaging her lower back. 

But a couple days later, when she began to feel better and started giving him speculative looks, he surprised both of them by still being up for it. After work that night, she put several towels on her bed and then pulled him on top of her. She stayed on the bottom, not as active as she usually was but more than vocal in her moans and sighs to make up for it. It felt strange rubbing against her as they became aroused and knowing there was a new quality to the wetness she produced. He was a little wary about looking down at their bodies, in the fear of seeing blood. But when he entered her, he had to pause for a long time to control himself.

“It feels different,” he said, his voice actually choking up.

“Bad different?” Jemma asked self-consciously. 

Fitz shook his head sharply, squeezing his eyes shut. “Good different. Very, very good different.”

“Oh,” Jemma replied, breathing out. “Good. Me too.”

**

For Fitz’s birthday, which conveniently fell on a weekend, she planned a full day of activities he was sure to enjoy, including a surprise Skype conversation with his mum, mocking Americans, and testing out some new tech. But she was pretty sure he was happiest when she knelt on the floor in front of the couch, a bow that had been stuck to his present perched jauntily on her head, and sucked him off.

She didn’t know how to respond when, 23 days later on her birthday, he gave her a necklace, the only jewelry he had ever given her, besides, she supposed, her wedding ring. It didn’t seem quite appropriate as a birthday gift for a best friend. Jemma felt self-conscious as she put it on, and kissed him quickly to cover up her confusion. One thing led to another and soon she was wearing nothing _but_ the necklace as he held her hands above her head and rocked into her slowly. Jemma couldn’t look away from his eyes the whole time.

**

Two days after New Year’s, Jemma was sprawled on her stomach, arms curled under her pillow to support her head. Fitz’s childhood bed was small but big enough for the two of them if they squeezed together. They’d been there since a few days before Christmas and so were well overdue for their weekly “appointment” because neither one of them could bring themselves to test the thickness of the walls. But Jemma found she didn’t mind so much, and she was pretty sure they’d make up for it when they got home. She smiled wickedly at the thought.

“Hmm?” Fitz wondered aloud. He was propped on his side, tracing his fingers down the scar on Jemma’s back, a reminder of the surgery she’d had when she was younger. 

Jemma shook her head and smiled wider. “Just – it’s been a good year. I’m looking forward to this next one.”

Fitz met her eyes, staring for a long beat, then he swallowed. “Me too.”

Later, after Jemma showered, she was walking down the stairs when she heard quiet voices in the kitchen.

“Nothing’s different, Mum. Nothing’s – changed.”

“Must be my imagination, then,” Fitz’s mum replied. For a second, Jemma wondered if she had figured out they had been lying all these years. Still, she corrected herself, shaking her head quickly. That they were _still_ lying about the authenticity of their marriage. “I’m just glad you’re happy.”

“I am,” Fitz confirmed, and Jemma smiled, forgetting her concerns. “Things are good. Really good.”

Jemma made some additional noise to warn of her approach, finally walking into the kitchen to be greeted by her husb – her best friend and mother-in-law.

**

_Do you have any stamps?_

Jemma was out running errands, so Fitz figured if she didn’t, then at least his text could prompt her to pick some up. Win-win. A few moments later, she texted him back.

_Check my desk._

_Did already_ , he replied.

_Check my bedside table._

Fitz shrugged, thinking it was a weird place to store stamps but that women could be weird sometimes. Not that Jemma was like other women, of course, but she had her eccentricities. He went into her bedroom, smirking at the rumpled sheets she hadn't bothered straightening after they'd messed them up earlier that afternoon. Stepping around the bed, he pulled open the drawer to the table.

And immediately, his smirk turned into a full-blown grin. How had he never known this existed before, he wondered as he pulled out the dildo. Probably because it hadn’t been necessary to use for a while now, he added to himself with an overly-pleased mental pat on his back. It would be fun to mention it to Jemma, though, and watch her blush. Perhaps they could experiment a bit with it. He’d already seen her pleasure herself with her fingers, but this would be something entirely new. Fitz swallowed thickly, imagining what it might feel like to see her responding to the vibrations. He wondered if it would be possible to fit them both inside her at the same time or to alternate or perhaps to – he nearly dropped the vibrator on the floor when his eyes caught something else in her drawer.

He returned the device with suddenly shaky hands and picked up the box of condoms instead. He felt very confused. It was unopened, which gave him a weird sort of relief, but that was lost when he found the expiration date. They had far too much life left, if Jemma was telling the truth about the length of her dry spell before they revised their contract. And obviously, they had never used them. They had waited a whole, excruciating week to make sure they didn’t have to. So, what were the condoms for?

Or who?


	6. Chapter 6

Fitz sat in the back corner of the coffee shop they often stopped at on the way to work. Leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand, he watched his wedding ring spin around on the table in front of him until it lost momentum and toppled to the side. He picked it up and started it spinning again. 

The first conclusion he had come to was that there wasn’t anyone else _yet_. They literally spent 17 or 18 hours a day together, either at work or at home, apart only when they slept. Jemma would never date anyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. and risk their cover. And when would she have found the time to meet anyone else outside of work? No, there wasn’t anyone _yet_.

But there was apparently the hope of someone. Or worse, the prospect of someone. His best guess was the new guy down the hall of their apartment complex, who had been laughing at something she’d said when Fitz walked into the foyer while they were getting the post. The guy was really tall and built and exactly Jemma’s type. 

But he knew that Jemma would tell him if she started something with Mr. Perfect. She had always told him those things, even back at the Academy, and she would be even more conscientious about it now, he assumed. He still remembered what must have been the last date she went on, in between when they first started talking about the marriage plan and when they actually went through with it. She called it her last fling. Fitz had been so worried she’d change her mind and – and then where would they be? In two separate labs, probably. 

“Don’t normally see you here by yourself.”

Fitz looked up at the interruption. The barista whose name he could never remember was wiping down the table next to him.

“Oh, yeah, I…” Fitz started to respond, then found himself at a loss. 

“Everything OK?” she asked. “The barista’s the new bartender, if you want to talk.”

Fitz laughed at the unexpected, if weak, joke.

**

“Here, let me get that for you.”

“Oh!” Jemma looked up gratefully as the new guy down the hall held open the lobby door for her. She had been juggling several files from work, her purse and her keys, and she had been anticipating a crisis situation. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“That does not look like a fun weekend,” he observed, nodding at her files as he followed her inside. 

“It does if you love your job,” Jemma replied with a smile.

“What do you do?”

“Oh, I’m a biochemist for a private research facility. What about you?”

“Accountant. So, I only bring home work during tax season.”

Jemma laughed as they separated to head towards their respective flats. “Can’t say I blame you, Rob.”

“Kyle.”

Jemma felt confused for a second, certain that she had – 

“Rob’s my boyfriend.”

Jemma cringed. “Sorry! I met both of you the same day and – ”

He laughed, waving it off. “No worries. But we should all get to know each other better. You and…”

“Fitz.”

“Fitz should come over for dinner sometime.”

“Sounds great! We’ll have to find a day.”

She was still smiling from the encounter – it had been far too long since she’d even had the prospect of a friend outside of work – when she entered the flat. Fitz was in the corner of the living room, running his finger along the spines of books on the shelf. 

“Do you know where the – why are you so happy?”

Jemma shrugged. “Dinner invite from the new neighbor.”

Fitz stared at her for a long beat, looking rather pale. She wondered if he was getting sick. Then he turned away and focused on the books again. “Do you still have a copy of the book from Hall’s class?”

“Ah…in the office, I think. You aren’t working tonight, are you?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta finish the report for Hand.”

“Not until Monday, I thought. It’s _Friday_ ,” she said as significantly as possible.

Fitz walked away, disappearing into the office and not even looking back at her when he replied, “Yeah, but I have plans tomorrow.”

Jemma nodded in understanding. Then, a moment later, her brow furrowed. What plans?

“What plans?”

“I have a date,” he called back matter-of-factly, as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Jemma actually staggered back a step in surprise. She found it difficult to breathe. She was pretty sure an actual punch to the gut would have hurt less.

**

Somewhat embarrassingly, Jemma hid in her room much of the evening and next day. It was only when she heard Fitz moving around, getting ready to leave, that she pulled herself together. She walked over to the mirror next to her door and stared at herself for a while.

“This was always going to happen eventually,” she reminded herself.

Fitz was actually an amazing catch. She was surprised he hadn’t dated more, to be honest. Really, part of her had been beginning to wonder if they even needed to continue their charade. She hadn’t heard of anyone being broken up in ages. After the Chitauri attack on New York, S.H.I.E.L.D. must have decided they had more important things to worry about than enforcing unnecessary HR policies. 

“I’ll see you later!” Fitz called out, interrupting her thoughts.

Jemma shook her head, wiped at her eyes, then ran out to catch him.

“Wait, let me look at you,” she said, surprised at how normal, even cheerful she sounded. 

Fitz stood awkwardly by the door, but obliged her with a quick spin when she gestured. Jemma smiled quickly, unable to keep it up long. She stepped forward and brushed some imaginary lint off his shoulder and then slid her hand down his arm to squeeze his fingers.

“Oh!” she exclaimed as soon as she felt his ring. She lifted his hand and slid it off, flashing back to the day she put it on and blinking away sudden tears. “Don’t want to wear this. Some mixed signals there.”

She swallowed thickly when she saw the indent in his skin marking the ring’s usual location. She forced herself to look up, too conflicted to be able to read the emotion in his eyes. 

“Have a good time,” she whispered.

Fitz’s mouth opened and closed, but he didn’t say anything. He simply turned away and hurried out the door. Jemma shut it behind him, leaning forward to press her forehead against the smooth surface. She breathed heavily, feeling like she was going to cry or vomit or scream. She didn’t know why she was reacting this way. She should be happy for him. He was her best friend, for goodness’ sake.

**

Despite telling herself that repeatedly, Jemma found she couldn’t bring herself to ask how the date went. She assumed well, since Fitz was still out by the time she finally fell asleep sometime after two in the morning. Not that she was waiting up or anything. When she went out into the kitchen the next morning and spotted him, hair tousled from sleep and ring back on, he simply mumbled a _good morning_ made almost unintelligible by his yawn.

They didn’t talk much at all that whole week, actually. At home and at work, their routines stayed very much the same, with each of them taking their turns at meal preparation and chores, at lab clean-up and meeting reports. It almost was kind of sad to Jemma how smoothly they could function together without sharing a single word beyond what was absolutely necessary. Even Sally Weber seemed to realize something was unusual and remained quiet herself. 

By Friday evening, the silence was unbearable. Jemma wanted to scream as loud as she could just to break the oppressive atmosphere in the car on the way home. Finally, as she stepped into the flat and dropped her keys into the bowl, as Fitz closed and locked the front door behind them, she snapped.

“Don’t worry about rescheduling tonight, if you have plans,” she declared. “I know it’s been a week, but that’s fine.” 

She sensed Fitz hesitate behind her, and then he responded, “I don’t have plans. But we can reschedule, if you want to.”

“Oh?” Jemma asked, doing her best to sound simply curious. “When _is_ your next date with – I’m sorry, I don’t think you ever told me her name?”

“It was Kacey. From the coffee shop,” he answered. Before Jemma could reply, he continued, “I’m not going to see her again.” 

Jemma spun to face him before she realized what she was doing. She didn’t know what she was feeling, exactly, and her breath turned shaky, but at least she could finally make eye contact with him again. 

“You’re not?” She sounded far too meek to her own ears. 

Fitz shook his head quickly, pressing his lips together. He was looking at her with his stupid puppy dog eyes. 

“No, I – she wasn’t – ” He licked his lips, then shrugged. 

Jemma watched him, wanting more information but uncertain how to phrase her questions. She finally just turned away. “I’m going to make dinner. How does chicken – ”

“Jemma, I – ” 

She stopped in her tracks, but didn’t face him again. After a long moment of silence, he spoke again, voice quiet, “I’m sorry if things have been weird.”

Jemma tried to think of a response. She felt like and emphatically did _not_ feel like she should also apologize. She wasn’t ready to forgive him, yet she knew intellectually there was nothing to forgive. She wanted to comfort him, tell him she was sorry his date didn’t work out, but she really didn’t think she could lie that convincingly. So instead, she just started walking again. 

“I changed my mind,” she said. “I want pasta.”

Fitz followed her into the kitchen. Dinner was a strange experience. They spoke, haltingly at first and only about work, and then eventually more comfortably, but still not getting into any personal topics. When they moved to the living room to watch something mindless, Jemma sat on the far end of the couch rather than curl up next to him like usual. Like she wanted to. 

She hated herself at the end of the night, when they headed towards their separate bedrooms, for wanting to follow him into his. She missed his touch. She wanted to get past this uncomfortable hurt and just go back to how they had been before the stupid date. She didn’t want to reschedule. 

Before she could stop herself, she gave in. Turning to Fitz, she placed one hand on his chest. He stopped immediately, looking wary. 

She stepped closer and closer; finally, when she was almost chest to chest with him, she tilted her head up. He bent down to meet her, but they stopped just before their lips touched. Jemma exhaled, and she knew she was trembling. Fitz’s breathing seemed unusually loud and unsteady. 

“We don’t have to reschedule,” she ventured. 

He breathed in deeply, placed his hands on her shoulders and started to pull her closer. She knew he was about to kiss her, and she needed to say something. Needed to control the situation somehow.

“But we’ll need to use a condom,” she stated. 

Fitz froze. She couldn’t tell at first if it was out of surprise or disagreement. It wasn’t until he spoke that she realized it was due to confusion.

“Why?”

Jemma stepped back and stared at him. “ _Why?_ Fitz, I’m sure she’s lovely and I don’t mean to judge, but I think until you get tested again – ”

He laughed shortly, or it might have been a scoff. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

Jemma blinked rapidly. “You didn’t?”

“No! Jemma, it was a _first_ date!”

“You were out until _two_ in the morning!”

Fitz furrowed his brow, shaking his head slightly. “Were you checking on me?”

“No! I just – I was – I happened to be awake, that’s all.”

Fitz exhaled, half-laughing again as he looked away and ran a hand through his hair. “I took her for dinner, I kissed her goodnight, and I went for some drinks until last call. That’s it.”

“You _kissed_ her?” Perhaps it was the wrong thing to focus on, but Jemma was suddenly livid. 

Fitz buried his face in his hands briefly, and then reached out to grab her shoulders. “We can use condoms if you want to, but I did not have sex with her. I just spent the whole night wishing I was at home with you.”

Jemma leaned back in shock, then heaved a breath and smiled, feeling her eyes well up. To stop herself from examining her emotions too closely, she simply reached up and took one hand off her shoulder, intertwining their fingers. She turned and started walking towards her room, tugging him along. He didn’t put up much of a fight.

“Jemma?”

“It’s fine; we don’t need condoms.”

He was silent for a beat, and when he spoke again, he sounded a bit odd, almost like he was testing her. “Good. I didn’t feel like running to the store.”

Jemma waved her free hand, too distracted to try to figure out what he was hinting at. “I have some.”

“You do?” he asked, almost too innocent in his surprise. “Why?”

Jemma glanced over her shoulder at him, a bit confused by his attitude but even more confused why he wanted to focus on this rather than enjoying each other for the first time in what felt like forever. “I bought them when we first started,” she explained. “In case we couldn’t make it a week.”

He stopped walking, the abrupt change and their still clasped hands pulling Jemma back. She turned to face him inquisitively. He stared at her, looking as if he had multiple competing questions, and then he just shook his head.

“That whole week, we could have been – ”

He sounded outraged, and Jemma cut him off with a giggle. She lifted her hand to stifle the sound, and then smiled broadly at him as soon as she calmed. 

“Oh, like you couldn’t have gone to the store at any time,” she reminded him.

“You wanted to be in charge of birth control,” he replied. “It’s in the _contract_.”

Jemma shook her head, still laughing. It felt entirely too good, almost cathartic. 

“ _Jemma_.”

She stepped closer, placing her free hand on his chest to soothe him. “I think part of me just wanted to make sure we didn’t rush into anything, you know? And well, a much larger part of me just never wanted anything between us.”

Fitz inhaled and exhaled sharply, and then pulled her to him. Jemma nearly tripped at the unexpected movement. She caught herself by wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back as passionately as he kissed her.


	7. Chapter 7

Fitz blinked his eyes open, slowly adjusting to the morning sunlight. It took him a second to realize he was still in Jemma’s bedroom. Then he tilted his head to look back at her headboard and remember…he grinned and then almost immediately grimaced. He lifted one hand to rub at his jaw as he moved it back and forth. It was, however, as Jemma had said once, the best possible pain. He wouldn’t trade the previous night, when she had held onto the headboard for support as she sat on his face while he ate her out and then later rode his cock with the same dominance and abandon, for anything. 

Fitz would thank his lucky stars for the rest of his life that he hadn’t done anything with Kacey that ruined the good thing he had going with Jemma. He knew they wouldn’t stay like this forever, that they would someday leave S.H.I.E.L.D. and no longer need the cover, or someone else would come along, or something, and they’d go back to being best friends and only best friends. In the meantime, however, he’d happily scratch _all_ of her itches.

He glanced around, wondering where she was and feeling vaguely guilty for having slept the night there. He hoped she wasn’t angry with him for it; they both tried to respect each other’s boundaries and privacy as much as possible, after all. Of course, if he hadn’t slept in there, she wouldn’t have been able to shake him awake in the middle of the night and wordlessly demand he suck on her boobs and finger her to completion, so she really had no reason to complain. 

Fitz sat up with a groan, scanned the room until he spotted his boxers, and ultimately strolled out to the living room, scratching at his stomach as he yawned. Jemma completely startled him then, by walking through the front door. He was about to ask where she had gone when he saw the cup carrier and paper bag in her hand. 

“I got you a muffin,” she told him with a smile. “Chocolate chip.”

Fitz raised his eyebrows, about to joke how much she must have enjoyed the previous night if she was rewarding him with junk food. But then he spotted the logo on the cups and got distracted. 

“Is this from the place on Kennedy?” he asked, taking them from her and leading her over to the sofa. He wondered why she had walked all the way over there, even as he smiled when she sat down right next to him, took her cup, and leaned back against the cushions, lifting one leg to hook over his. 

“It’s fair trade and locally owned,” she replied, sounding like she’d rehearsed it. “We should start being more responsible consumers.”

It probably didn’t hurt that the regular barista was an acne-scarred college kid who talked about his half-written novel to anyone who’d listen. But Fitz didn’t point that out, choosing instead to smile into his cup before taking a sip. 

“Oh, Kyle and Rob were there. They said hi. We still need to decide on a day for dinner.”

Fitz hummed in acknowledgment, more focused on the way she was massaging his scalp. And then her statement registered – or rather, didn’t.

“Who?”

“Kyle and Rob.”

Fitz shook his head, and Jemma sighed. “The new couple that moved in down the hall. The tall one is an accountant, not sure what the other one does, and oh my God, I forgot which one’s which again.”

He stared at her, then burst into laughter. 

“What?” 

Fitz was unable to respond beyond shaking his head. As soon as he’d calmed enough, he took her cup, placed both on the table, and turned to her. He put his hands on her cheeks, holding her still as he kissed her. When they finally separated, he smiled widely at her.

“We can have dinner with them any day you want,” he promised before adding, “Except today.”

Jemma smiled back at him, still looking confused. “Why not today?”

“I want to spend all day on this sofa, making lo – ah, making you come.”

That’s exactly what they did, minus snack and bathroom breaks and interspersed with attempts to make up for all the conversation they’d missed that week. That evening, Fitz didn’t even really think about it; he just followed Jemma into her room. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get it up again if he tried, but that didn’t stop him from finally satisfying his curiosity and using the vibrator on her. He was sure he’d always remember the faces and sounds she’d made, the way she gripped his forearm to direct the device where she wanted it most, and how she’d finally begged breathlessly to stop when she couldn’t take anymore. 

He tested his luck even more by crawling under the sheets and settling in for the night. But she didn’t say anything about it when she walked out of the bathroom. Instead she climbed into bed next to him, curling her still naked body around him and resting her head on his chest. Fitz wrapped his arm around her shoulders and smiled softly before pecking the top of her head in a goodnight kiss. 

When they woke up Sunday, still wrapped in each other’s arms, Fitz grinned at her and raised his eyebrows suggestively. Jemma simply snorted, shaking her head.

“No.”

“No?” He didn’t quite believe her.

“I’m starting to chafe,” she said, snickering. 

Fitz shrugged in acquiescence. They made out aimlessly for a while, then watched TV in her room for most of the day, before finally getting up and actually making a real meal for the first time that weekend. It felt strangely like a conscious effort to put a cap on their activities. They’d made up, got back to a good place, but now they needed to get back to their work and regular lives. So, when it was time for bed, Fitz wished Jemma pleasant dreams and headed for his own room. He didn’t turn around, not even when she finally answered him with a rather meek goodnight of her own. 

He closed his bedroom door, then leaned back against it, feeling like he should be doing something else, simultaneously overthinking the situation and trying not to put words to any of his thoughts at all. Finally, he shook his head to rid himself of the feeling that they hadn’t really fixed anything and something horrible was about to happen. 

Thankfully, he had been silly to worry. His premonition seemed to just be in relation to the news he got from Hand the next day. He had been seconded to the Sandbox and would be gone for 12 days. The trip felt more like 12 months. When he got home, he’d barely made it inside the flat before Jemma pounced. He took her right up against the front door, his jacket still on and his bag at his feet.

**

“So, how did you two meet?” Kyle-or-Rob asked.

Jemma spared a moment to glance at Fitz and see if he wanted to field this question. Instead, he half-smiled and gave her a small nod, and Jemma faced the others again. 

“We went to school together,” she explained, editing out more S.H.I.E.L.D.-specific details, “and were partnered for a chem lab our second semester. He had to get over his hatred of me long enough to do the assignments, and then we became friends. And then, eventually, more than that.”

She didn’t notice for a moment that Fitz was staring at her, frozen with his mouth open and his silverware in mid-cut. 

“ _What?_ ” he finally said. Then he glanced at the other side of the table and shook his head. “She’s lying to you.”

“Oh, what in there was a lie?” Jemma defended herself, laughing. 

“I didn’t hate you!”

Her mouth dropped open in shocked disagreement. She looked at their amused neighbors as if they could support her side of the argument, and then looked at Fitz again.

“You didn’t talk to me for three months!” She faced Kyle and Rob. “Three months! He ran away when he saw me coming.”

“Because I didn’t know what to say!” Fitz exclaimed. “You were brilliant and – and beautiful, and I wanted you to…like me.”

It was Jemma’s turn to freeze and stare at him in confusion, her whole understanding of their history being rewritten. Only when Kyle-or-Rob _aww_ ed at them did she shake her head to bring herself back to the present. She beamed at Fitz, but then changed the subject quickly, turning the question back around on the other couple. 

She returned to the topic as soon as they were inside their own flat, though. She turned to him, pressing one hand to his cheek and holding him in place and she rose up to kiss him just to the side of his lips. His hand came up to rest lightly on the small of her back, and she leaned even closer, nuzzling the side of his face.

“All you had to say was hello,” she whispered in his ear. 

She heard his throat bob as he swallowed, and then a moment later, he turned his head and captured her in a deep kiss. A breath was forced from her as he lifted her suddenly, and she hooked her legs around him. He carried her slowly to the couch, laid her down on it and then lowered himself on top of her. 

Jemma moaned, giving herself up to the feelings. She would be forever grateful for that chem lab that changed everything for them, that had given her…

Her best friend.

**

“You need to be more careful, Jemma,” Fitz scolded, short-tempered in his worry.

He finished washing the cut on her hand, then reached for a towel to dab it dry. Sally had already gone to find a medic, despite the fact that Jemma was still protesting that she was fine. Fitz figured better safe than sorry when dealing with some of the materials they worked with. While they waited, Fitz pressed a piece of gauze to the cut, trying not to gag at the oozing blood. He glanced around the room, then bent to kiss her hand just above the cut. Jemma’s fingers twitched at the contact.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, sounding more like she was soothing him than the other way around. 

But two days later, her hand was still sore, the cut an angry red and refusing to heal, and Jemma’s objections were shot down by all parties with any say. She went to the doctor and came back with heavy-duty antibiotics and some pain pills. Fitz spent the evening running around trying to serve her until she finally snapped at him to sit down. 

He did so, only grumbling slightly, and Jemma leaned against him immediately. 

“Cuddle me,” she ordered. “That’s how you can help.”

Fitz huffed a sigh, but ultimately followed instructions. He put his arms around her, sliding his hands down until they lightly encircled her wrists. He turned his head towards her, pressing his nose against her temple and breathing in her scent. 

“I don’t like when bad things happen to you,” he muttered. 

Jemma smiled softly, angling her own head to rub her cheek against his. “I know,” she replied softly. “But bad things are going to happen. The important part is you’ll always be here to take care of me.”

Fitz moved his hand up to caress her face, and Jemma tilted her head to make eye contact. Fitz gave her a quick smile, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and bent closer to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Always,” he promised. 

Jemma reached up with her uninjured hand, wrapping it around the back of his head and holding him in place as she gave him a real kiss. Fitz moaned softly, desperate to deepen it and continue with the kinds of activities they’d normally take part in on a Friday evening. He wouldn’t, though, not when she was injured and – 

“Fitz, we can’t,” she whispered apologetically, separating from him with obvious reluctance.

“I know,” he reassured her, even as he moved to drop open-mouthed kisses just below her ear, a place that always – and this time was no exception – made Jemma sigh and bend her neck to give him more access. “Your hand needs to heal; it’s OK.”

Jemma pulled away, her expression fond yet frustrated. 

“No, it’s – my hand is going to be _fine_ , Fitz; it doesn’t even really hurt with these painkillers. That’s the point – the drugs.”

“What do you mean?” 

“The antibiotics could mess with the birth control, that’s all. We’ll have to wait until I finish the course and then some.”

Fitz blinked at the unexpected explanation. Then he wondered how long exactly the prescription lasted.

“Maybe three weeks,” Jemma informed him, as if she had read his mind. 

His mouth dropped open and he searched for a response. He wasn’t a total jerk, and he wasn’t going to force Jemma into anything she didn’t want or wasn’t up for. But three weeks felt like some kind of curse, especially since they both clearly wanted it otherwise. And then Fitz began to think through what she really said.

“Is that the only problem? The birth control?”

Jemma scoffed. “The only – it’s a big enough problem, Fitz.”

“No, I – ” Fitz shook his head. “You still got those condoms?”

Jemma did a slight double take, but then began to smile. “You want to?”

Fitz shrugged. He had used them before, the handful of times he’d been with other women, and he knew intellectually that it wasn’t really any worse with them. In his most secret thoughts, he knew the reason it was so much better with Jemma had nothing to do with anything quite so – at any rate, he’d be disappointed having to use them with her. But not so disappointed where he’d want to delay sex for weeks for no other reason. 

Jemma stood, grabbed his hand with her uninjured one and pulled him to his feet. “Just be careful of my hand,” she instructed needlessly. 

“Mm-hmm,” Fitz agreed, stepping up right behind her as he followed her to her room. He placed one palm low on her hip and bent down to kiss the top of her shoulder. 

He nearly lost control a short time later when he was naked on her bed with her kneeling between his legs. They worked together to start rolling the condom on him, and then she batted his hand away. Using her good hand to hold him still, she leaned down and finished the process with her mouth. 

“Holy fuck,” Fitz declared, staring at her with awe when she sat back up, flipping her hair back at the same time, and grinned triumphantly at him. “How did you learn how to do that?” 

She winked. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Leopold Fitz.”

And then she climbed to her knees and straddled him for a moment before sinking onto him. Fitz closed his eyes in pleasure. Frankly, he would wear condoms the rest of his life as long as he got to be inside her somehow.

**

“Agent FitzSimmons?”

Fitz, Jemma, Sally and the lab techs simultaneously looked up at the interruption. Jemma imagined it was a pretty amusing sight, but the intern or aide or whoever it was seemed too single-minded to laugh. 

“Which one?” Jemma prompted. 

“Ah…” He looked nervously at the tablet in his hands and then relaxed. “Both. Agent Hand wants to see you immediately.”

Jemma turned to look at Fitz, and they shared a moment of worry and concern. It was rare that they were called into her office and even then, it was usually clear why. But they were firmly in the middle of a project, and they had just updated her on it at a meeting that morning anyway. 

Really, Jemma began to think as she led Fitz out of the room and down the hall, the only thing that they might need to worry about is…their relationship status. More specifically, how S.H.I.E.L.D. handles individuals in romantic relationships with each other. They shared one last look, and Jemma tried to take comfort from Fitz’s smile of encouragement, and then she knocked on the door.

At Hand’s response, they went into the room. She was not alone, as an Asian woman stood in the corner behind the desk.

“FitzSimmons,” Hand greeted them, “Welcome. Thank you for coming. This is Agent Melinda May. She wants to talk to you about an opportunity to…change your roles at S.H.I.E.L.D.”


	8. Chapter 8

By some sort of unspoken agreement, they didn’t say a word about the job offer until they made it home. But Jemma couldn’t stop thinking about it the entire car ride. Judging by Fitz’s expression, he was equally obsessing over it. She faced him as soon as she’d closed the front door, unable to stop the wide smile growing on her face. 

“Fitz, can you believe it?”

“No, it’s insane!” he answered immediately. He clearly had been bottling up just as much as she had. The disturbing thing was he didn’t seem particularly excited about the matter. 

“But…in a good way?”

They met each other’s eyes then, both confused, both startled by the other’s response. Jemma swallowed her sudden fear and stepped closer to him.

“Fitz, we’d be fools to pass this up.”

He shook his head, struggling for a response. He closed the distance between them, grabbing her by the elbows. 

“We’d be fools to take it. It’s – it’s dangerous. And we have – ”

“I know you’re afraid – ”

“I am _not_ afraid.”

Jemma paused, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. She could tell Fitz was getting ready to dig his feet in stubbornly. Maybe she should back off. Let him think about it and come around to the idea on his own. She’d just need to plant a little seed and wait for it to grow.

“It’s the most perfect opportunity for us to see the world.”

Fitz stared at her for one second longer, then shook his head. He turned away, heading for the kitchen. “We won’t even pass the field assessment,” he stated dismissively.

Jemma sighed. She stared at the ground, biting the inside of her cheek as she wondered if they’d come to an agreement on this. And what would happen if they didn’t.

Three days later, they still hadn’t talked more about it – or about much of anything at all. May and Hand were waiting on their decision, and they weren’t waiting patiently. So, Jemma forced herself to raise the topic again at dinner.

Fitz tossed his napkin on his plate, then stood up from the table. He excused himself gruffly, taking his plate and dropping it in the sink with a clatter, before leaving the room. A few minutes later, she heard his bedroom door close with a near-slam. Jemma stared at her own plate, her appetite completely gone and tears welling up in her eyes. 

Then she stood to follow him, determined to come to some kind of resolution. She leaned against his bedroom door, working up the courage, and then she tapped a fingernail against the wood.

“Fitz?” she asked, her voice breaking.

There was no answer.

“Please let me in,” she added, starting to lose hope. 

Still silence. Jemma sighed, then turned away with a small sniffle. She started to trudge to her room, prepared to type up a letter formally turning down the position. And then she heard the doorknob turn and the door open just slightly. Nothing else happened, and Jemma hesitated briefly before walking back to the room. She pushed the door open slowly, until she saw him sitting on the side of his bed. His heels were hooked on the edge of the bedframe, allowing him to cross his arms over his knees. He was looking away from the door. 

Jemma walked into the room as quietly as she could. Finally, she was close enough to sit on the bed. Lowering down on the foot of the mattress, she kept her distance, looking back at the door rather than trying to get Fitz to make eye contact. Then she searched for something to say.

“I don’t – ” Fitz began. Jemma’s head twitched from the desire to turn to him. “I don’t know why we went through all this to stay together, if you were just going to leave.”

“Oh, Fitz.” She didn’t know if she were more heartbroken or annoyed.

“But,” he interrupted before she could continue. “I know I haven’t been – honoring our deal. No hard feelings, no explanations needed. If this is what you want, we can file for div – ”

At that, Jemma couldn’t control herself. She turned quickly, climbing onto her knees and shuffling over the mattress towards him. She wrapped both hands around his closest arm. He finally looked at her, and Jemma nearly broke down at the expression on his face. 

“I don’t want to divorce,” she declared, forcing herself to continue even when he inhaled shakily. “Whatever we decide, I want us to decide together. I don’t – I don’t need to go into the field. I need you in my life.”

Fitz seemed gobsmacked, his mouth opening and closing. Jemma licked her lips and thought back over her previous statement.

“Where am I going to find another lab partner like you?” she asked with a strained laugh, trying to downplay everything. 

Fitz looked down. He seemed to be struggling with himself. Finally, he met her eyes again, lifting one hand to her cheek. 

“Why do you want to go?” he asked.

Jemma paused, reflecting on everything she had been considering over the last few days. Finally, she shrugged. “I could have worked in any lab. I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. to do something meaningful.”

He nodded, seeming to understand.

“Why don’t you want to go?” 

He held eye contact, rather to her surprise, but it still took him a long moment to answer. “I love our lives. I don’t want things to change.”

Jemma gave him a small smile, and shifted just a little closer. She lifted a hand and stroked it through his hair. Fitz’s eyes closed briefly, and she waited until he opened them again before she responded.

“Nothing is _ever_ going to change between us, Fitz,” she declared, noting that he seemed strangely more resigned than comforted by that statement. 

“Best friends,” he whispered, finally giving her a somewhat forced smile.

Jemma nodded, hugging him tightly. “Best friends,” she confirmed. 

He hugged her back, burying his face in her neck. After a long silence, he heaved a sigh. “We can go.”

Jemma tightened her embrace in happy surprise. “Oh, Fitz. Really?”

“There will come a moment when we regret it,” he warned, his petulance muffled by her shoulder.

She just laughed, unable to stop her smile as she moved around until she could force his head up. Murmuring thank you over and over again, she proceeded to drop kisses all over his face. Eventually, she returned to his lips and her enthusiasm transformed into passion. Fitz eased backwards onto the bed and Jemma followed him down, determined to make sure he didn’t regret his decision at all that night, at least.

**

Their last night in the flat before they were supposed to report to the S.H.I.E.L.D. hangar and their new duties, they cracked open a bottle of wine and sat at the kitchen table going through the marriage contract. Numerous things would have to be changed to accommodate their new lives.

“No more date night,” Fitz observed, sounding sadder about it than she would have guessed. 

Jemma nodded in agreement. She doubted they’d be able to convince Coulson, the team’s leader, to let them go out on the town once a month. Honestly, she was beginning to wonder if it was even necessary to continue the whole act. Clearly, S.H.I.E.L.D. had no problems with her and Fitz’s work or their partnership, if they were giving them this opportunity. And she doubted they’d be able to sustain the subterfuge 24/7, especially considering there was at least one Ops specialist on the team. She was too nervous to bring those concerns up to Fitz, however, and he didn’t seem to share them. So, instead, they continued to work their way through each point they’d agreed to over the years.

Until they reached the last one. 

Neither one of them spoke for a long time. Jemma didn’t want to be the first one to say something, but it seemed like Fitz wasn’t going to, either. Finally, she broke.

“I don’t know if we can guarantee once a week,” she pointed out.

“Probably not,” he agreed, yet seeming more relieved than disappointed that that was her first conclusion. 

Jemma fought a smile, glad that they seemed to be on the same page. “But I suspect,” she added, “we’ll need the stress relief even more than we do now.”

Fitz nodded vigorously. “Definitely.” 

She gave up the effort, allowing her grin to spread across her face. “So we’ll just – ”

“Do our best. Find time whenever we ca – need to.”

Jemma hummed in agreement. She pretended not to notice that Fitz leaned forward, reaching out for her leg under the table. He wrapped his hand lightly around it, just below her knee. 

“There might not be much privacy on the plane, but I can probably figure something out for soundproofing, at least. Or we’ll have to be quiet.”

Jemma gave him a mischievous look. “I don’t know if I can make that promise.”

Fitz’s lips twitched and he raised his eyebrows. “We should probably take advantage of tonight,” he suggested. “Get our fill in, in case we have to wait a while before we have another chance. Be as loud as we want.”

Jemma didn’t bother responding. She merely pushed her chair out from the table and hopped up. She had hit a run by the time she reached the corridor, and Fitz was right on her heels. Once in her bedroom, he caught her in a hug low around her waist and half-tackled, half-pulled her onto her bed. Jemma shrieked with laughter, but her later screams and shouts were caused by other things entirely.

**

“This will be your bunk,” May said, indicating what appeared to be an extremely large closet along the side of the communal room in the biggest plane Jemma had ever seen.

Fitz was still turning around in circles, looking around in awe rather than paying much attention. Which might explain his next question.

“Which one’s mine?”

Jemma wanted to facepalm, or perhaps smack him upside the head. The look May shot them both made it clear she didn’t miss the slip-up, but she didn’t seem to quite figure it out either. 

“I imagine we’ll be sharing, dear,” Jemma said, trying not to grit her teeth.

Fitz turned quickly to them, startled into self-awareness either by her statement or her tone of voice. He smiled widely, a sure sign he was about to ramble in an attempt to salvage the situation.

“The bunks are big enough for two? From what I’ve read about airborne mobile command stations, that’s not – ”

“We were able to arrange some remodeling when you signed on,” May replied, cutting him off. 

She gave Jemma one coolly assessing look, and Jemma smiled back, trying to appear pleased that S.H.I.E.L.D. had made the concession rather than terrified that May would guess their secret. May simply harrumphed, then started to walk away.

“I’ll let you get settled,” she said in dismissal.

Jemma waited until she was gone before she slid the door open to check out their bunk. It was as small as it had seemed from the outside, with a shelf and mirror above built-in drawers that would just barely hold the clothes and personal items they had been allowed to bring. Jemma paused a moment to be thankful yet again that S.H.I.E.L.D. would continue to pay rent and ensure upkeep at their flat so they could maintain a home base. She had no idea what they would have done with the rest of their stuff otherwise, especially with so little notice. 

And she knew she was only thinking about that because she was too nervous to think about the only real piece of furniture in the bunk. When she felt Fitz step up behind her though, she finally looked at it.

“What do you think?” Fitz asked softly. “We could – make something up, say I snore or talk in my sleep or you have…restless legs or something.”

Jemma smiled, her concerns suddenly disappearing. She half-turned her head until she could see him in her peripheral vision. 

“I’m fine with sharing, if you are.”

“Mm-hmm,” he replied immediately. After a moment, he added, “I mean, we’ve done it before.”

“Certainly,” Jemma agreed, struggling to find the same carefree tone he’d just used. “I think it’s even bigger than your bed at your mum’s.”

“Just barely,” he confirmed, snickering. “Will feel like loads of space.”

Jemma finally turned to face him. She fought the urge to wrap her arms around his neck, choosing instead to lift them to rest her hands lightly on his chest. He responded by placing his hands on her hips. 

“It will be convenient for…stress relief,” she pointed out, aware that she was hardly being subtle.

Fitz, genius that he was, stepped closer, sliding his hands around to her lower back and then to the swell of her bum. He was about to lean down to kiss her, when Jemma smirked. Locking her elbows, she held him back. 

“After we figure out soundproofing, of course,” she mock-scolded. She gently pushed him until he stepped out of her way. “Let’s go finish loading our gear and setting up the lab.” 

She smiled broadly at his disappointed groan as he leaned against the wall for a brief moment before following her.

**

Fitz had decided that he’d make a true effort towards friendliness and teamwork so Jemma didn’t get upset with him or feel like he resented being there. And so, even though he was in the midst of an argument with her over the night-night gun – and they absolutely were calling it that – he stopped to greet the new arrival. This guy Ward was clearly the specialist. He was tall and muscular and didn’t look too bright, like everyone else Operations had ever produced, but Fitz would be nice. For Jemma’s sake. She wanted their time in the field to be a positive adventure, after all.

He went to work on the comm receiver, determined to show he was eager to do his part. He half-listened to Jemma interact with Ward. _Journey into mystery_ , what an odd duck she was. He couldn’t help but notice her scrunch her nose in an adorable way. 

Coulson arrived in his souped-up car and Fitz walked up next to Ward to comment on it. Making friends, that’s what he was doing. And OK, yes, it hadn’t escaped his attention that Ward was closer to Jemma’s type than he himself was, but for maybe the first time since they’d married, Fitz wasn’t all that worried. Someday she’d leave him, he knew, but they were both too happy with their lives currently and had worked through too much to get to that point for this guy to be the one to tear them apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like in some AU version of our world, I would have kept this completely AU. I feel a little restricted by canon now, but on the other hand, I really want to see them go through all the important events we remember in a different way. The kinds of hard decisions a fanfic writer has to make...


	9. Chapter 9

Jemma was exhausted. Fitz was still talking about the day, but she was more than ready for bed. It seemed like it had been a year or two, not a week, since they’d joined the team. So many things had happened since then, including adding Skye to the crew (and don’t think Jemma hadn’t noticed Fitz point out she was next to _his_ bunk) and nearly crashing to fiery deaths when they blew a hole in the side of the Bus. Really, she felt S.H.I.E.L.D. could spring for some nice hotel rooms for them, but since they had to emergency land in the middle of nowhere, they had to settle for their bunks and the hope that nothing would crawl through the tarp that currently replaced the inflatable raft.

“Fitz.”

He stopped mid-sentence, some complaint about Coulson calling him a rocket scientist as if that were a compliment. He turned to look at her, and after a few moments of eye contact, he smiled. 

“Sorry.”

And with that, he kicked his shoes to the side of the bunk, finished stripping off his clothes, flicked off the light and climbed into bed. Jemma turned to him. Within the first couple nights, they acknowledged that trying to keep to _sides_ of such a small space would be impossible and so embraced, well, embracing. She put her arm on him, rubbing her hand over his chest before letting it rest on his pec. She also had no complaints with his increasingly common choice to sleep without a shirt, something she had always known he preferred but never did when they needed to share a bed before. 

Jemma sighed, shifting a little closer as she started to draw designs with her fingertips over his skin. There was a long moment of silence, and then Fitz spoke, quietly honest in the dark room. 

“We almost died today.”

Her eyes pricked with tears as she remembered the man who held a blade to Fitz’s throat, and the way they clung for dear life as others were sucked into the blue sky. She flattened her hand over his chest again, taking comfort from the beat of his heart beneath her palm.

“Did you mean what you said?” she asked, scared of what his answer might be. 

“Said about what?”

“About…regretting coming into the field.”

“Oh. No.”

His response was immediate, sincere, and unwavering. Jemma closed her eyes in relief. And perhaps a bit of confusion.

“No? We almost died today,” she reminded him. 

She sensed him look down at her, but she didn’t lift her head to meet his eyes. He breathed in slowly before replying, “But you still want to be here, don’t you? In spite of that.”

“I…do,” Jemma confirmed, realizing once again he knew her better than she knew herself, sometimes.

“Then no.”

At that, she looked at him. He offered her a small smile, adding, “I could never regret any decision that kept us together.”

Jemma blinked, trying to find a response to that. She knew it was most likely because it was dark and late, after a long day, but the moment felt unbearably intimate. Like they were close to some line that she didn’t know if she were ready to cross. And so, she gave him a grin that was more salacious than sentimental, and she turned her head a little more to lick the nipple near her hand.

“Fitz,” she hinted in an entirely obvious way, her lips brushing against his skin as she spoke, “it’s important, when in the field, to unwind from time to time.”

Fitz chuckled. “Especially after a hard day of everyone almost dying.”

He moved his hand from where it had been wrapped around her shoulders to the back of her head, holding her in place. She took the hint, moving to suck and kiss him more, trapping his nipple between her teeth and tugging, letting out a small growl from the back of her throat.

“Jemma,” he breathed out, sounding hesitant and disappointed. “I haven’t done any soundproofing yet.”

She sat up slowly, arching her back as she did. She stared down at him, breathing heavily. And then she thought _fuck it_ to herself, and stripped off her top. 

“Jemma?”

His voice was barely a whisper, but it was broken with lust. She smiled at him, even as she shifted on the bed to remove her bottoms. 

“We’ll just do something that keeps our mouths too busy to make noise,” she replied.

With that, she flipped around, getting into place with her head near his thighs. She reached out, sliding his pajamas down his legs, smiling when she saw how aroused he already was. Then she leaned forward and kissed the tip of his cock before wrapping her lips around it. He groaned loudly, and Jemma made a warning noise in response. But she was probably louder than she should have been, too, when he caught up to her and circled his tongue around her clit. 

And truthfully, she probably pushed him a little harder than was necessary, drawing out loud, uneven breaths and a grunt or two with his orgasm. Just so Skye had no doubt that she was sleeping (or rather, not sleeping) next to _their_ bunk, not _his_.

**

When Jemma wished everyone good morning and asked how they all slept, Fitz tried his hardest not to look at Ward. But his hardest wasn’t good enough, and he did catch a pointed glare. It didn’t really have the intended effect, however, as Fitz merely hid his smile into his mug of tea.

Look, did he pull out every trick he’d learned from going down on Jemma for the last several months? Did he mean for her to press her open mouth to the inside of his thigh in a futile attempt to stifle her moans and gasps and the very loud squeal that marked her climax? 

Well, yes. Yes, he did. Because they might have ended up being a pretty good team, all of them contributing their portion to the solution. But it certainly didn’t hurt Fitz’s ego to demonstrate that Ward could be the one who uses all the equipment (that Fitz designed) in the field to fight the bad guys, but the most beautiful woman on the plane, probably even in all of S.H.I.E.L.D., wore Fitz’s ring and came apart in _his_ bed at the end of the day. 

And cherry on top: they were on their way to see a shuttle launch. 

Nope. He had no regrets at all.

**

He had never yelled louder in his life, which made sense, because he had never been so afraid. He pulled on the door with all his might, unable to look away from her. In other circumstances, he would probably be struck with how beautiful she looked, staring at him with her hair whipping around her. But it would never be the way he wanted to remember her.

And then she was gone, tumbling away and taking his breath and his mind with her. Fitz nearly collapsed, and he probably would have, if the door hadn’t opened just then. As if possessed, he ran to the parachutes, babbling nonsensically to her. He couldn’t – he couldn’t get it on. The straps were all messed up and every second he wasted, the closer she was to the surface or to emitting a spark of light and floating back up to him, whichever came first. She – 

Someone tore the parachute from his grip. He spun, confused but relieved to see Ward. 

He pressed the injector into Ward’s hand, trying to shout an explanation over the roar of the wind. Ward barely listened, running and jumping off the plane before he even had the chute on. All Fitz could do was fall to the ground and _hope_. 

At some point, the cargo hold ramp was closed, presumably remotely by May. And someone – Skye, he realized eventually – joined him. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it tight to make up for Fitz’s inability to respond. He didn’t speak, he didn’t move, he didn’t even cry.

What felt like decades later, there were footsteps on the stairs above. 

“Moroccan office fished them out of the water,” Coulson informed them, sounding completely professional, almost unemotional. “They’re both fine.”

And that’s when Fitz curled in on himself and the tears came.

**

Although Coulson yelled at them, she knew that deep-down he was happy. And Ward’s horrible impression of, well, himself, left a smile on her face, as did Skye’s bear hug of relief. The smile didn’t last long, though, after she made her way to their bunk and found Fitz wedged in the far corner, hugging a pillow. She closed the door and sat next to him, cautiously waiting for a sign from him before she made any move to touch him.

At long last, he sniffed loudly, lifting a hand to wipe at his nose, then his eyes.

“I was going to do it. I just couldn’t get the straps on.”

Jemma smiled, reaching out to grab his hand and tilting her head to rest against his shoulder. “I know you were.”

“Maybe I couldn’t have done the whole James Bond in midair type of thing but – ”

“Fitz, shut up.” 

His mouth snapped shut, and he turned to look at her, vaguely affronted. Jemma shook her head, fighting a smile. Leaning forward, she kissed him briefly and chastely.

“Ward did an amazing thing, yes,” she whispered. “But it wasn’t Ward by my side in that lab, searching for a cure. It wasn’t Ward giving me hope when I had none. It was _you_. You’re the hero.”

Suddenly, she felt his hand on the small of her back. He tugged her closer, kissing her more fully. When they finally separated, he let out a shaky breath.

“New rule for our contract,” he said. “No more jumping out of planes.”

“ _Deal_ ,” she agreed, laughing. “No negotiation required.”

Before she knew it, Fitz had rolled and shifted them around. Jemma hooked her arms around his neck, pulling his head down so she could kiss him as deeply as she wanted. She let him work on their clothes, let him position her as he needed. She gasped when he buried himself deep with, perhaps understandably, a little less foreplay than normal. She felt the same way, really, desperate to be with him and have him inside her. She wrapped her limbs around him in a position not unlike the way she had clung to Ward earlier that day. She held Fitz close, basically being taken along for the ride, as each of his powerful, somewhat uncontrolled thrusts forced a squeak from her. When they came, practically simultaneously, it was as exhilarating and breathless and heart-stopping as any free fall.

**

Fitz carefully unwrapped the sandwich, fondly recalling Jemma’s face as she gave it to him. She was so worried, poor thing, and determined to seem brave. He could still remember the first time she’d made this sandwich for him, back at the Academy. It had been his favorite ever since, and she only brought it out for special occasions now, so as not to ruin the treat.

“Is that a sandwich?” 

Fitz glanced at Ward, then nodded. “Jemma made it. My favorite.” After thinking for a moment, he came to the grudging conclusion to share. “Here, you can have half.”

He could barely believe it when Ward ripped the whole sandwich out of his hand and threw it out of the storm drainpipe they were hiding it. Fitz heard a splash a moment or two later, breaking his heart at the total waste. 

“What the hell?” he whispered harshly.

“There are dogs tracking us, and you bring a sandwich.”

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Fitz argued, not even listening to Ward’s explanation. There was no suitable explanation for destroying a man’s only meal. 

“This is a mission, not a picnic!”

“Oh, I’m well aware it’s not a picnic, Mr. Save the Day,” he shot back, feeling his hackles rise. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ward demanded.

Fitz went off on Ward, releasing his pent-up frustration with the man and all the ways he needed to show off in front of Jemma and the others. With the way he made it seem like Fitz was incapable of protecting his own wife, or even himself. Ward shut him up quickly, telling Fitz that Coulson himself didn’t even trust him on this mission, and then giving him some sort of cardboard protein bar.

“It’s odorless,” Ward told him.

Fitz opened it, still pouting angrily. It was also tasteless, no doubt.

**

Skye’s concern that Fitz might have been captured – might be getting tortured at this very moment – was the only thing running through Jemma’s mind. Which made responding to Agent Sitwell incredibly difficult. Skye’s so-called tips in her earpiece didn’t help either.

“You certainly have a gorgeous head, don’t you?” she managed to say.

 _What?!_ She thought, echoed by Skye. Well, best to commit. “I like men that are about my height, but heavier than me,” she added awkwardly.

Sitwell seemed confused and yet – _yech_ – still interested. “I thought you were married, Agent Simmons,” he said, more coy than anything else. 

Jemma forced a smile to her face, tempted to correct him with her legal last name. “Well,” she said slowly. “That’s really just a piece of paper, isn’t it?”

It was the same reasoning she and Fitz had used when they got married in the first place. Somehow, now, that piece of paper felt a lot more important than it ever had before. Thankfully, however – or perhaps not – Sitwell wasn’t distracted enough, and Jemma ended up shooting him with the night-night gun. Much to Skye’s dismay and May’s annoyance.

**

“What you said about me always needing to swoop in…I know you would have jumped out of the plane to save Simmons, and she knows that too.”

Fitz didn’t quite believe she really knew that. And honestly, he didn’t really want to think about it right then, because then he’d have to admit that he might never see Jemma again. The mission was going south fast, and there was apparently no extraction plan either. He’d hate to think that he’d never have the chance to – well, they were getting out of there. Both of them; he wasn’t about to leave Ward now. He told him as much before turning back to the overkill device.

“And I’m bloody starving,” he added grumpily.

**

Jemma admittedly was not very subtle as she hurried up to Fitz when he and Ward boarded. She caught herself just in time; it would not have been professional to throw her arms around him in a giant hug – or more – in front of the whole team. Instead, she cleared her throat and reached her hand out towards him, dropping it before she could make contact.

“So glad you’re all right,” she told him. 

They made awkward conversation then, with Fitz bragging a bit about his actions in the field. She pretended she was humoring him, but really, listening to him describe it and Ward’s responses confirming the truth of his story was turning her on in ways she’d never expected. In her confusion, she even confessed her own rather embarrassing attempt at spycraft and how it had ended with a superior officer unconscious in the infirmary. Fitz had turned rather pale at that, and she couldn’t blame him. She was still so shocked at herself. 

It was still somewhat bold, but at least less out of character, for her to push him onto the bed once all the debriefing was over and they’d made it back to the bunk. Jemma was particularly grateful that Fitz had finished the last of the soundproofing, because she intended to make good use of it that night. 

He sat on the edge of the bed where she had directed him and looked rather bashful as she played with the lower hem of her shirt. 

“Fitz, you were very brave today. A real hero.”

He raised his eyebrows, almost looking like he was going to try to demur. She shook her head slowly.

“I think you deserve to be rewarded. What would you like? You name it.”

He was speechless for a long moment, even more so when Jemma mouthed _anything_ at him. She was prepared to meet just about any fantasy request he could come up with, from something tame like giving him head to something more risqué. Maybe he’d want a strip tease or a lap dance or – 

“Ride me.” 

There was a metaphorical record scratch and Jemma stared at him, slightly confused. “Huh?”

“Just…I like you on top,” he continued, blushing. 

She wanted to ask him if that was really all he wanted, or if he was just holding back out of embarrassment or fear she wouldn’t be willing after all. Sex with her on top was frankly not that unusual of an occurrence, so she was well aware Fitz enjoyed it as much as she did. Therefore, it seemed a little unlikely that, given all the other possibilities they hadn’t gotten around to trying (yet), he would choose… Jemma shrugged. If that’s what he wanted, that’s what he’d get. 

She stepped closer to the bed, and Fitz scooted back until he was fully on the mattress. He watched her with rapt attention as she undressed, even as he blindly unfastened his own belt and pushed his clothes down. Jemma crawled up the bed towards him, dropping down to push his shirt up a little and slurp an open-mouthed kiss onto his belly. She worked her way up, stopping briefly to give attention to his suprasternal notch and then his neck, before meeting his lips for a plundering kiss. She arched her back, gliding her body along his until they lined up, and then she lowered down. 

He was growing harder by the second, and Jemma herself was getting quite wet in anticipation. She rocked her body on top of his, feeling his cock slide along her. Fitz’s hand dropped to her bum, pushing down to provide more pressure and friction. 

Unable to wait any longer, she pushed up, shifting to her knees so she could position herself above him. Lowering down steadily, she reminded herself to breathe as he filled her. And then she leaned backwards, bracing her weight on her hands on either side of his calves. She began to move, hissing at the unusual angle with which he penetrated her and the burn in her thighs as she lifted her weight and dropped down repeatedly. 

His fingers found her clit, and the unexpected contact caused her to yell out. She moved faster, indifferent to the exertion and only slightly aware of the way her breasts bounced with each thrust (or rather, Fitz’s reaction to that). His groans of delight were getting louder and more frequent and she knew he wouldn’t last. She squeezed around him and shifted her weight to one hand, slapping the other above his where he fondled her clit. 

She came rather explosively, sensing Fitz shoot off moments later. Her spine and limbs turning to jelly, Jemma fell backward the rest of the way, or at least until her inflexible legs made her squawk. Fitz sat up in response, adrenaline driving him to catch her and scoop her into his arms. He pulled her until she was lying on top of him, their chests pushing against each other as they continued to breathe heavily. 

“I have to tell you something,” he said unexpectedly.

“Hmm?”

“Ward threw away the sandwich before I could eat it,” he blurted, sounding extremely apologetic.

Jemma burst into laughter. “That jackass,” she finally managed to say. “I’ll make you another one tomorrow.”

“Did you _really_ shoot Sitwell in the chest?”

Jemma shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Skye and I needed info; he was in the way.”

She may have embellished the story a little bit when she had told him earlier, making herself sound much more heroic and calmer than she really was. Like it was no big deal. Like she shot people every day. 

“That is so fucking hot,” he observed.

She chuckled throatily, inadvertently squeezing around him again. Fitz hissed, rocking his hips up to her, and Jemma lifted up off his chest, looking between them in surprise. He rarely recovered that quickly, but goodness, he certainly seemed to be getting his second wind. She raised an eyebrow and smiled. At the same time, she couldn’t help but notice he still had his wrinkled field jacket and shirt on. Some of the dust had even transferred to her skin. 

Speaking of things that were fucking hot. 

She moved one hand up just beside his head, noting his damp and dirty curls, bracing her weight as she began to rock again. She ground her clit against him, breathing out a laugh as he hardened even more inside of her.

“I dunno if I can,” he murmured.

“You just bashed some guys’ heads in and may have prevented a war,” she reminded him, her voice deep. “Surely you can pleasure your wife again.”

Fitz looked up at her for a long moment, his breath coming heavy and ragged. And then he flipped them both, kissing her neck and starting to move inside her at the same time. Jemma moaned loudly, grateful once again for the soundproofing, as she wrapped one leg higher around his arse to hold him close.


	10. Chapter 10

“You’re a scientist. You like to figure things out.”

“Yes,” Jemma agreed, smirking slightly. “With my doodads.”

Her sarcasm didn’t stop Ward from continuing to support her as she climbed up the tree. Honestly, ever since their adventure with the alien virus, Ward had been very attentive to her. It was nice to have someone like him on their team, someone who was kind and _solid_ and straightforward and not simple, exactly, but not confusing either. 

Or so she had been telling herself for several days now. He was definitely her type. Before she married Fitz, most of the men she dated were far more Ops than Sci-Tech. If she ever wanted to find someone to marry for real, she should start looking more seriously. Because she was starting to get too…comfortable with Fitz, she realized, and was finding it very confusing. Starting to feel like looking for an actual partner wasn’t worth it. Starting to feel like – 

Well, Ward was attractive, and could even be funny at times. She had done worse. There had been Milton, after all.

**

“Analytically minded and pretty as a peach.”

“The warrior in the story?” Fitz butted in. Honestly, Jemma didn’t need some perverted old professor hitting on her on top of everything else. 

He continued to tell the story, and Jemma was falling for his romantic act hook, line and sinker. He supposed it was better than the way she’d been acting around Ward lately, and don’t think he hadn’t noticed how she’d been giggling at all his horrible jokes. You catch a person mid-air one time, and suddenly you’re some kind of – 

Fitz sighed and focused back on the case.

**

Shirtless or not, Ward’s attitude was making him pretty ugly. It was hard to remind herself she was supposed to be developing a crush on him as he insulted all of them. She particularly took offense to the reference to her ass, saving it or otherwise.

“That was just a biochemical reaction,” she reminded everyone, including herself. “He didn’t mean all of that.”

**

As she answered the call from her dad, Jemma smiled. She wanted to tell them everything that had happened to her lately and most importantly that she was coming through it stronger – she’d helped save an alien’s life today! – but she knew she wasn’t allowed to share any of the more classified details. So, she talked around them instead, talked about how much she and Fitz were enjoying being part of a mobile lab and assuring them that she was being as safe as possible. Ultimately, she was glad she finally got over her reluctance or, perhaps more accurately, fear of talking to them.

And then, moments before they ended the conversation, Jemma’s mum made one of her oh-so-funny comments about grandchildren. Jemma, as usual, laughingly dismissed it, told them she loved them, and hung up. It wasn’t until she was pocketing the phone that something connected in her brain.

The smile slowly faded from her face, and she pulled her phone back out again. With shaky fingers, she opened the calendar and counted the number of days since the last one marked with an unsubtle “.” 

“Oh, bugger,” she whispered to herself. 

Later that night, she climbed stiffly into bed, still worrying about the possibility. It was just the birth control, she was sure of it. The extremely effective birth control that could make her periods stop altogether. They’d been irregular of late, anyway. She shouldn’t read too much into it. 

But she couldn’t help but wonder if or how the Chitauri virus or the antiserum or indeed any of the numerous stressors she’d experienced in the last several weeks could interfere with the medication.

When Fitz joined her in bed twenty minutes later and wrapped his arm around her as he snuggled against her, she nearly pushed him away. She caught herself just in time, but hoped her immediate tension didn’t raise any red flags. He didn’t seem to realize anything was wrong, though, as he tilted his head closer and kissed her jaw. 

“He was right about one thing.”

“Hmm?”

“You are easily the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, even if I only have a couple decades to his hundreds.”

Jemma smiled at the compliment and felt herself relaxing. She turned to her side so they were face to face. 

“I’m glad you talked to your parents,” Fitz told her. “And I’m glad you’re…doing better.”

“Me too.” She thought for a second, then forced herself to say, “Ward’s been helping.”

She hoped it would make things clear to him. Obviously, she didn’t want to hurt him, although the way he dropped his gaze from hers at the comment indicated she had anyway. She hadn’t expected it to hurt herself just as much. Jemma breathed in, then gave him another too-wide smile. 

“Good,” he finally said, turning away from her to roll to his back. 

Jemma watched him stare at the ceiling even while he absent-mindedly stroked his fingers over her shoulder. She wondered how it was possible to feel lonely when you were lying right next to another person. She wondered if she should even be pursuing anything with Ward when there was a chance a baby – Fitz’s baby – was growing inside her. She wondered if there was something that could get her to stop worrying about all this for just one second. 

Silly her, of course there was. They had made the addendum for just such a reason, after all.

“You know what else would help?” she whispered.

Fitz glanced down at her curiously. “Hmm?”

Jemma smiled. “There’s more than one way to get the adrenaline flowing.”

It took Fitz a second to figure out her innuendo, and then he was grinning, turning back to her and pulling her into a deep kiss. His hands roamed over her body, finding the hems of her nightclothes and tugging them away. Jemma moaned softly, practically climbing onto him as she hooked a leg over his side. Fitz’s hand began to fondle her, but it wasn’t enough. She changed position and pushed at his shoulders until he took the hint and shifted down so his mouth was pleasuring her instead. Best to keep him there where he can’t do any more damage than he might have already done.

Jemma sprawled out on her back, one hand pressed to her forehead and the other lightly resting on his head. Her breath was loud and uneven in the small room, and the mattress creaked in time to the instinctive roll of her hips. She stared dazedly at the ceiling, letting her hormones course through her and determine her emotions rather than trying to more logically figure out anything she might be feeling.

**

Jemma was glad not to be part of the welcome wagon that collected Hannah, and even gladder she and Fitz were assigned to forensic work at the petrol station and then the particle accelerator complex. It gave her the opportunity to discreetly step away and…commandeer a pregnancy test. As soon as they made it back to the plane, she put the test in their bunk, attempting to hide it in the limited amount of time she had. She’d have to actually take it later; she had more pressing science experiments to run now.

Between analyzing the data from the accident and humoring Fitz as he tried to come up with increasingly silly pranks to play on Skye, hours passed. 

And then there was a ghost.

Obviously, not a real ghost. There was no such thing. The failed attempt to create a portal was the most logical scientific explanation. Even still, she was terrified, especially after he’d nearly choked her. She looked down at Ward’s head in her lap and rested her hand on his cheek. If he woke up now, she might very well kiss him, and that had nothing to do with the crush she was trying to nurture. 

But she managed to control herself. While she was happy when he finally woke up, she didn’t throw herself at him either. The real hero of the night ended up being May, anyway. Jemma had no idea what she said to Tobias but he did stop trying to cross between universes. Jemma wondered what would happen to him where he was, if he’d live and for how long and if it wouldn’t be better in the long run to die than to survive indefinitely all alone on some alien world. She thought about all the people who’d died as a result of his actions. She thought about how sad it was that someone could cause so much pain, do so many self-destructive things, simply because they were just too afraid to admit how they felt to someone else. And then she didn’t let herself think about such devastating things anymore. They could count the mission as a win, and that’s what she needed to focus on.

With a yawn, she closed the holographic file on the case and walked out of the lab, flipping off the lights and making her way towards the bunks. The last thing she expected, when she slid open the door, was Fitz sitting on the bed, holding the pregnancy test loosely in his hand. He looked up at her when the door opened, his expression confused and – something else, then jumped to his feet. When he spoke, his voice was rough and quiet. 

“Is this a practical joke? It’s not very funny, Jemma.”

**

Fitz could barely breathe. He didn’t know how to think, how to react, as Jemma quickly turned and closed the bunk door behind her, engaging the seal on the soundproofing insulation he had installed.

“Did you go through my things?” she hissed.

Fitz looked around the room, as if there was some witness who could support him. Then he focused on her again. “This was in _my_ drawer!”

Jemma straightened, looking startled. She glanced at the drawers, saw the one just next to hers pulled open, and placed her palm over her face with a muffled curse. Fitz had no time or inclination to discuss this particular aspect of the situation any further. There were far more important things to get to the bottom of.

“Jemma, are you pregnant?!”

“No! I mean…I don’t think so?”

Fitz dropped back onto the bed, feeling his legs give out on him and his breath turning shallow. Little black spots appeared in his vision, and he was pretty sure he was about to pass out. Jemma hurried over, sitting next to him, placing a hand on his back and encouraging him to breathe and honestly, shouldn’t he be the strong one here, the one making sure she’s physically healthy and – Fitz shook his head, swallowing. He looked over at Jemma again.

“The birth control I’m on can make my period stop completely,” she reminded him with a firm, steady voice. “I’m positive that’s all it is. I bought this just in case.” 

He chose not to point out that there would be no need to do anything _just in case_ if she were positive. Instead he breathed in slowly, trying to calm himself.

“Have you taken it yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“What in the bloody hell are you waiting for?” Fitz practically screeched. 

“Ugh, Fitz, I did have some other things – ” Jemma cut herself off, closed her eyes and exhaled. “Sorry, I know you haven’t had the same amount of time to process this that I’ve had.”

That did not make Fitz feel any better. How long had she known or guessed? How long had she – it didn’t matter.

“I think you should take it.”

Jemma nodded. “I do too.”

Fitz stood up, prepared to lead the way to the loo. Jemma just shook her head. Fitz stared at her, brows furrowed, waiting for an explanation. 

“It would be far too obvious that something was wrong if you come with me. And I can’t exactly bring a pee-covered stick back discreetly, can I? Not when I could just dispose of it there.”

Fitz did his best not to grimace at the matter-of-fact way she discussed her urine. He wanted to argue with her points, anyway, determined to be there for support and his own peace of mind. But she made sense, as she always did. So, he forced himself to nod in agreement and handed her the test.

“See you in several minutes,” she told him before carefully hiding the box up her sleeve. 

Even considering the time it would take her to make it to the lavatory, do her business, wait for the test to finish, dispose and clean up everything and make it back to the bunk, it seemed like it took too long. Fitz paced back and forth in the room, which was so small he could make it only a few steps before he had to pivot again. 

And then the door opened. Fitz spun to face it, unsure what his expression said, and perhaps three times as unsure what he felt. Jemma closed the door, then faced him with some kind of smile he couldn’t read. 

“Negative,” she said. “Just like – just like I thought.”

Fitz exhaled. In relief, he was pretty sure. With a lick of his lips, he nodded. He reached out and pulled Jemma into a hug. She was stiff at first, but then melted against him.

“That’s – that’s good. Right?” It didn’t feel very good, even though he knew it should. But he wasn’t dumb enough to say that out loud.

“Very good,” she confirmed, her voice extremely tight and high-pitched. Fitz was surprised when the first tears hit his neck. “These are happy tears,” she added. 

They were very awkward around each other for the rest of the night, neither apparently sure how to proceed. Even when they went to bed, they stayed very stiff and proper. Fitz wondered how they’d managed to keep so much space between them on the small bed when it had always seemed impossible before. He wondered if he’d be able to relax enough to fall asleep. He listened carefully to Jemma’s breathing, trying to determine whether she had managed to. 

“Fitz.” Her voice was quiet, but it answered his question at least.

Fitz didn’t look at her – it was pointless with how dark the room was, anyway – and continued to stare in the direction of the ceiling. “Hmm?”

“I just – if I ever do decide to have children someday, you would be a good choice for the father.”

His heart started to thump. He didn’t know how he felt about that, didn’t know how exactly she meant it. He certainly didn’t know what he meant when he responded.

“Maybe…maybe, we can bring it up in the future. Next time we update our contract.”

“Yeah,” Jemma replied. After a moment, she continued, a strange tone in her voice that sounded oddly like panic. “I mean, friends have raised kids together before.”

Fitz felt ill. The stress of the day must be catching up to him. He couldn’t think of any other reason why he suddenly felt like puking. 

“Right,” he agreed, forcing himself to sound normal so she didn’t worry about him. “Let’s just table it for now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone else ever feel like the Hub and the Well were aired out of order?


	11. Chapter 11

“I didn’t really find anyone that interesting – except Fitz.”

Skye _awwwed_ and Jemma tried not to let her own face go mushy. Based on the way Skye looked at her, she guessed she wasn’t successful on that front. And then she just got nervous when Skye leaned even closer. Apparently, their gossip session wasn’t over yet. 

“Were you just friends back then? When did you…you know?”

“Oh. No, we – just friends.” 

Jemma’s hesitation to answer the second part of the question was obvious. Skye gave her a look, raising an eyebrow to demand more. Jemma sighed, then spontaneously decided to trust her enough to tell the truth. She could use some advice, or even just a friend, and Skye was hardly the type to side with bureaucracy. But it was harder to say it than she thought it would be.

“We – not – well, we were married about three and a half years ago.”

“When did you start dating?”

Jemma forced a laugh, feeling like she was being interrogated. “We – never really dated. Except for once a month, as contractually obligated.”

Skye shook her head in confusion, and finally Jemma sighed. She leaned closer. “If I tell you something, you have to promise – _promise_ – not to tell anyone else. Don’t even let Fitz know I told you.”

Without a word, Skye crossed her heart. She didn’t even blink.

Jemma glanced around the room quickly. “A few years ago, S.H.I.E.L.D. was really coming down hard with its anti-fraternization policy. Three or four partners at Sci-Ops were split up and sent to different facilities because they were dating. One pair had just kissed at a New Year’s party, that was it! We were afraid they wouldn’t believe that we weren’t. I mean, we even lived together, but we were _just_ roommates.”

“OK,” Skye said slowly.

“So, well, we talked it over, and we figured that breaking up boyfriends and girlfriends was one thing, but S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn’t really break up spouses. And we gambled that we were too valuable to fire us just for breaking one silly rule.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Wait,” Skye finally said. “Are you telling me you got fake-married?!’

Jemma shushed her, looking around the room again nervously. “Yes,” she whispered harshly. “Together, we’re twice as smart. We didn’t want to – ”

Skye waved her hand and Jemma stopped talked. 

“So, when did you two – you know, when did it become not fake?”

Jemma furrowed her brow. “What do you mean? It still is.”

Skye stared at her a moment, then burst into laughter. Jemma watched her, confused, until she finally calmed a few minutes later. 

“You’ve lived together how long?” Skye asked.

“Oh, years. Since we graduated the Academy.”

“And you’re married.”

“Well, technically.”

“And you smash junk two to three times a week.”

“How do you know that?!”

“Simmons, please. You might have figured out soundproofing – finally, thank _God_ – but it doesn’t stop crap from falling off our shared wall when your bed thumps against it.”

Jemma felt the blush burn across her face. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever, at least _someone_ is getting laid. Two to three times a week.”

“Um…yes. Sometimes more.”

“But you’re not together.”

“Oh! Oh no, I see your confusion. No, we’re just best friends.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really, the…the sex thing, we just added that to our arrangement for stress relief a year or so ago. It seemed easier and safer than finding a stranger.” And anyway, Jemma thought to herself, they hadn’t touched each other, even in a platonic way, since the whole not-actually-a-baby thing. Granted, things had been a little busy, with Coulson being kidnapped and all, but still…she was starting to wonder if they ever would again. 

“Uh-huh.”

“Surely you’re aware of the concept of friends with benefits.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I have _needs_ , Skye. Though it may be news to you.” Needs that were unfortunately not being met at the moment.

“Uh-huh.”

“Stop saying that.”

**

With just a little effort, it was easy enough to ignore the surrounding noises. Fitz let all the conversations, the music, the glasses clinking, everything fade into the background, and he simply took another sip of his drink. He sat alone in a booth in a far corner, the same booth he and Jemma used to consider _theirs_ back in their Academy days. That seemed so long ago.

Seth Dormer was dead. Donnie Gill was being shipped off to the Sandbox. And he somehow had to get back up in front of the students tomorrow for their rescheduled talk about potential, now with a brand-new example of how it can all go wrong. He kind of wished they’d just leave instead, but May wanted to test out some of the systems on the Bus after flying through the storm. 

Fitz sighed, bending forward and ducking his head. He still couldn’t quite believe he fell for it. He still couldn’t believe how it had ended. Suddenly, there was some unexpected noise, the cushion of his seat dipped and he felt soft fingers brush against his hand as someone – Jemma – took his drink from him. Fitz looked up, forcing a neutral expression to his face. He watched her down the last sip of the drink and place the empty glass on the table. Then she smiled at him.

“It’s not your fault,” she told him.

“I should have – ”

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated. “And I’m going to say that as many times as it takes for you to believe it.”

“But – ”

“Do you think it’s Ward’s fault for not figuring out Seth was lying?”

“No, of course not, but – ”

“Do you think it’s my fault for not being able to start his heart beating again?”

He leaned closer, earnestly trying to get her to dismiss that idea. “God, no, Jemma, how could you even – ”

“Then why would any of it be your fault?” 

Fitz sat straighter, turning his head away and looking out over the crowd in the hopes that she wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. He lifted a hand quickly to wipe at them, but before he could return it to his lap, Jemma grabbed it and intertwined their fingers. It occurred to him that that was the first time they’d willingly touched each other for non-work reasons in weeks.

“Come on, I know what will make you feel better.”

He raised his eyes to her, somewhat startled. Surely, she didn’t mean – 

She inclined her head, wordlessly indicating to follow her. As she started to slide out of the booth, Fitz felt his mood lifting. 

“Let’s go hustle people at pool like the old days,” she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder with a smirk.

He tried very hard not to be disappointed. It actually would be fun. Just not the kind of fun he’d been hoping she was suggesting.

**

Jemma knew Fitz wasn’t completely over the Donnie situation. It would take him far longer than that. But he was enjoying himself, probably more than he should be if he wanted to maintain good relations with the others on the Bus. Because he was definitely enjoying himself more than Ward, who sat nursing a beer at the bar and sulking after losing 250 dollars to them.

No one else would take them up after that, so they were just taking turns hitting balls in, her geometry to his physics. The game was pretty even at the moment, so Jemma decided to make things a little bit more interesting. Her cleavage to his libido, perhaps. Could be a win for her in more ways than one, she thought with a smirk as she tried to _casually_ undo the top several buttons on her shirt. She made an effort to find plays that forced her to lean far over the table directly opposite from where he stood. But he didn’t seem to notice, not even when she played one that required her to hook one leg up and sit sideways on the table, displaying both her bum and her breasts. Still, he kept hitting his balls in flawlessly, as if he were immune to her charms. Had they gone so long without…relieving stress, that he didn’t even think of her that way anymore? 

When there was only one ball left to hit in, Jemma pulled out all the stops. She stretched out, the edge of the table pressing uncomfortably into her hips. She held the cue in a purposely ineffective grip and pretended she was trying to line it up. 

“Ugh, I don’t think this is going to work,” she complained. “Maybe I should try for the corner pocket.”

“Nah, that’s your best bet,” Fitz argued. If he seemed at all aware of her ploy, he didn’t show it. “Here, let me show you.”

He walked around the table, putting his own cue on the wall rack as he passed it. And then he stepped up behind her, placing one hand fleetingly on her hip as he closed the distance between them. He draped himself along her body, stroking her arm lightly as he reached to grab the cue over her own hand. Jemma noted with a secret thrill that, while he wasn’t fully hard, his cock snug against her made it clear that he was certainly not as unaffected as he had seemed. 

“Who do you think you’re fooling?” he whispered in her ear. 

Jemma simply bit her lower lip to stop her smile and cautiously wiggled her arse as she pushed back against him. She was rewarded with him breathing out shakily and pressing ever so slightly closer. Jemma closed her eyes. And then Fitz pulled back the cue, her arms moving along with his. He jabbed it forward with one sharp, controlled motion. The ball ricocheted off one wall before sinking into the side pocket. A half-dozen innuendo-laden lines flashed through her mind, but she didn’t trust her voice.

“Wanna play another round?” Fitz asked softly, still bending over her. His tone of voice made it clear what his preferred answer was. 

Jemma straightened, forcing him to take a step back. She shot him a sultry look, then walked over to hang up her own cue. 

“Come on,” she finally said. “I know what will make you feel better.”

Fitz raised his eyebrows as he quirked his mouth in a small smile. It took all of Jemma’s willpower not to push him backwards and take him right there on that pool table.

But that had, surprisingly, never been one of her fantasies back in the day. So, she spun and led him out of the Boiler Room to pursue something that was. He seemed slightly confused when she headed towards the laboratories rather than the Bus. 

Surely, they could find a way to get in. 

“Ah, Jemma?”

Glancing over her shoulder, Jemma winked. 

“Tell me I wasn’t the only one who used to think about other things we could do while waiting for chemical reactions to finish.”

The confused smile slowly faded from Fitz’s face as he realized what she was saying. And then he stepped up his pace. Grabbing her hand, he tugged her toward the old lab where they’d spent nearly all their time a decade ago. 

They spent several minutes at the doors recalling the pattern S.H.I.E.L.D. used in order to change the keycodes every day but were still pleasantly surprised when it actually worked and they walked in with no alarms going off. Their old lab was on the first floor, so they thankfully didn’t have far to walk. Jemma opened the door, stepping aside to let him in. While she closed the door and wedged a stool under the knob, he climbed up on a far table just under the security camera. He dug into his pocket, pulling out a small device and placing it just behind the lens.

“What is that?”

“Image replicator. Should look empty in here. I figured it’d be better than killing the feed entirely, or even static.”

He pushed the camera to a new angle, probably for added peace of mind. He then hopped down from the counter and grinned at her. It was the first time he’d mentioned such a gadget, and she was suitably impressed. And a little surprised. And a lot turned on.

“Just carry that around in your pocket, do you?”

He shrugged. “Been working on it in my downtime.”

“No, Fitz,” Jemma said, shaking her head and smiling, stepping slowly yet sensuously forward. “As in ‘is that an image replicator in your pocket?’ Because if that’s what I felt back at the pool table, I’m going to be sorely – ”

He didn’t let her finish. Closing the distance between them, he swooped her up into a kiss. Jemma sighed, resting her hands on his chest as she melted against him. After a moment, she slid both hands up to his neck and deepened the kiss. She had missed this more than she could say. 

Eventually they separated, but not far. Their foreheads met, helping them maintain contact even as they breathed deeply. Fitz tilted his head slightly, giving her two more quick kisses.

“Did you really used to fantasize about us?” he asked, voice gruff with lust. 

She laughed breathlessly, feeling slightly embarrassed by her earlier admission. “Didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but – I was just a horny kid.”

“Fitz?”

“Hmm?”

“So was I.”

He tightened his embrace, taking two steps closer to the nearest lab bench. Jemma stumbled backwards, unwilling to separate from him enough to move more gracefully. 

“Why didn’t you – we could have – ”

Jemma closed her eyes and shook her head. “Because I didn’t think you – because we were friends, and I didn’t want to lose that.”

Fitz kissed her once quickly, even as they hit the bench and she had nowhere else to go. “Never gonna,” he promised.

“I know. Best friends,” she confirmed.

“Mm-hmm,” he agreed with a frantic nod, before lowering his head and kissing her more fully. 

Jemma moaned, lifting her hands to his hair and burying her fingers in his curls. As Fitz shifted to focus on her neck, he spoke again, voice muffled by her skin.

“What did you think about? How did you picture us?”

“Oh, so many ways,” she confessed, feeling rather giddy. Fitz groaned, and Jemma giggled at the sound. She nibbled on his earlobe for a beat before whispering, “For a virgin, I had a great imagination.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

He pulled back. Even in the dim light, he looked dazed. Jemma gnawed on her lower lip, sparing a glance at the very hard outline of his cock still trapped in his trousers. She made a noise of appreciation and anticipation. 

“How do you want me?” Fitz asked, clearly trying to sound suave but ending up somewhere around desperate. 

Just the way she liked him. Jemma grinned widely.

“I think we had a good idea back at the Boiler Room.”

She barely got the sentence out before he was pulling on her shoulder. With the unexpected force, Jemma’s spin was slightly out of control, and she caught herself by placing her palms on the table before she turned in a full circle. Almost immediately, Fitz was right behind her again, pressing himself against her as his hands reached around and fumbled with her button and zip. Jemma helped him, pushing her clothes down and then immediately throwing her arms behind her, finding his arse blindly and squeezing the muscle beneath her palms. 

Fitz separated from her for just a moment, and she whined in disappointment, but when she felt him again, he was naked below the waist. He forced her to take a step back, then bend forward. She placed her elbows on the bench, bracing herself as best she could, and lowered her head towards her arms. Jemma cried out when Fitz entered her and then again and again with each thrust. He reached underneath and around her to fondle and squeeze her breasts. Jemma curled her fingers, futilely trying to find some sort of handhold on the table’s smooth surface. 

She pressed her forehead against the hard tabletop, sparing a wild hope that whoever used it these days practiced sufficient sanitation but finding it ultimately unimportant as long as she kept her lower body far enough way. All the more reason to push back against Fitz and encourage him more. It had been too long, that was all. It had simply been too long, and that was why it felt so – that was why her teenage fantasies could never quite capture anything like this. 

“Fuck, Jemma!”

She turned her head again, sucking the sleeve of her shirt into her mouth and biting down on the fabric, thankful it kept her tongue occupied, preventing her from shouting out no doubt embarrassing dirty talk – or anything else she might later regret. 

Instead she just muffled a scream as she came, hurting her throat quite a bit and overpowering his own grunts and groans. They both lost their balance and the strength in their legs at the same time, toppling to the floor yet thankfully not damaging any lab equipment in the process. Fitz fell out of Jemma as they landed, but managed to at least partly catch her before she banged any of her limbs against the nearby furniture. They both started laughing, at their clumsiness and perhaps partly over the insanity of breaking into the lab to screw each other senseless.

Jemma turned to him and tried to give him a proper kiss even as she snickered against his lips. Fitz sighed, wrapping his arms around her in a hug and pulling her tight. It took them a long time and several additional deep kisses before they finally dragged themselves to their feet and went searching for cleaning supplies. Fitz made far too many jokes about lab safety and etiquette and whether they should use the emergency shower as they wiped down the table and put things back to rights. Jemma was too happy to do anything but indulge him. She was too happy to let herself wonder how things might have been different if she’d acted on any of her fantasies all those years ago. And she was certainly too happy to worry about where they stood now.


	12. Chapter 12

“Everyone clear what you’ll be doing?”

Coulson looked at each of them in turn. Fitz fought a smile at the eager, desperately intense expression on Jemma’s face. She was obviously anxious, and after hearing more about her previous attempt at lying on a mission, he couldn’t say he blamed her. But when Coulson’s gaze fell on him, he was somewhat surprised – and a little offended, considering how he had pretty well proven himself in the field, all things considered – that Coulson seemed concerned, even skeptical, as he waited for Fitz to respond. 

“Clear, sir,” he said, as confidently and politely as possible.

“And…you’re OK with it?”

Fitz blinked, feeling everyone else turn to look at him. He tried not to blush. “Why wouldn’t I be, sir?”

“Just – you’ll be faking a relationship with Skye. Do you think you can handle that?” 

Fitz wanted to laugh. Could he fake a relationship? He only had years of experience at it. He made the briefest of eye contact with Jemma, then looked back at Coulson. 

“Of course, sir,” he replied, following up with a joke that only he and Jemma would fully get. “As long as Skye remembers I’m a married man. Keep your hands off me, yeah?”

Skye snorted. “I’ll do my best.”

Fitz glanced at Jemma, who just rolled her eyes. Which is why he was rather thrown when she held him back in their bunk a couple hours later, after they’d changed in preparation for the mission. 

“Fitz, are you sure you’ll be OK?”

“Oh, not you too. Might I remind you,” he asked, dropping his voice to a low hiss, “this is not my first time at this particular rodeo?”

“Yes, but – this is different. You don’t know her as well as you know me. It could get dangerous, so there will be more pressure, and – ”

“Jemma,” Fitz interrupted, reaching out to hold her by her shoulders. He looked into her eyes and fixed her with a steady gaze. “It will be fine. Just make sure you take care of your part.”

“Oh! Absolutely! I’ve been doing research, coming up with a backstory and talking points.”

Fitz stared at her, not entirely comforted by her statement. But before he could follow up, May announced over the intercom that they had arrived at the hangar where they’d leave the plane to go catch the train. Fitz sighed, offered Jemma one more supportive smile, then turned to leave. He looked down in surprise when her hand hooked around his arm and pulled him back to face her again. He raised one eyebrow, waiting. 

She stepped closer, maintaining eye contact, and then lifted herself up to lightly kiss him. Fitz inhaled sharply. Before he could respond and deepen the kiss the way he wanted to, she pulled back and wiped her thumb across his lips. 

“You better not enjoy it too much,” she said, sounding almost like she was warning him off Skye. Like she was, God, really jealous. 

Maybe she was better at this whole undercover lying thing than recent events had suggested. After all, she had just as much experience at fooling their colleagues as he did. 

The weird part, though, was that it was much harder to fake with Skye than it ever had been with Jemma. He even froze when she pecked him on the cheek. Jemma was probably right, though. It probably was just because he knew her better, and had even back when they’d first began, so it was just easier, more comfortable with her.

**

Fitz murmured in Jemma’s ear, not even sure what he was saying but knowing that it was helping. She was starting to breathe more steadily, and her tears were stopping. Rather than trembling in his arms, she leaned against him, taking strength from their embrace.

He’d think about the fact that she was getting Skye’s blood all over him later. 

It had been a horrible day. And he felt a bit ashamed that, as worried as he was about Skye, he was relieved that something worse hadn’t happened to Jemma.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm,” she replied softly, but she didn’t move to let go of him.

Fitz didn’t complain about that. He, in fact, tightened his own arms around her. 

“Good,” he said. “Because I have a nit to pick with you.”

He tried to sound teasing, not wanting to upset her further. But it was hard, because honestly, he was mad at her. 

“Hmm?” she asked. Even though he couldn’t see her face, he knew she was confused. 

“What did we agree? What did you promise me?”

It was Jemma that pulled away. Tear streaks ran down her face, and Fitz almost ignored his concerns to comfort her more. But this was serious. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You promised not to risk your life again. I’m pretty sure that throwing yourself on a – ”

Jemma’s face lightened with sudden understanding. Then she grinned. “I promised no more jumping out of planes.”

“Jemma.”

“Totally different,” she added cheekily.

“Don’t argue semantics with me,” he jokingly-but-not-really demanded. “Do we have to dig out the contract and put this in writing?”

She rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t a conscious decision.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Fitz replied, pulling her in for another hug. He was unable to keep up the light-hearted tone as he added, “You have no idea how worried I was.”

**

Jemma’s thighs were burning, trembling with the effort to hold herself up against both gravity and the desire to take Fitz deeper into her. His fingers dug into her waist as he helped move her back and forth, teasing at her with the tip of his cock, every so often slipping inside just enough to make them both moan. It was the best kind of torture, and she clung tightly to him, their naked, sweaty bodies rubbing together. She had one arm wrapped around his neck for balance, but he kept pulling away just enough to look at her through half-closed eyes. Their open mouths barely touched, hot breath pooling together as he described all the things he did in the Guest House and she encouraged him, begging for more details. She wondered if it had become something of a Pavlovian response, Fitz in a tac uniform being heroic, or perhaps Fitz trying to impress her after he successfully completed a mission. Either way, she couldn’t get enough of it.

Jemma closed her eyes, biting back a moan as she dropped lower again, just enough to feel him start to spread her apart. Fitz’s hands moved to the small of her back, his palms flat against her and his fingers flared. And then she raised herself up again.

Fitz swore breathlessly, closing his eyes in an almost pained expression. Jemma dropped her free hand to his side, scratching her nails lightly over the bumps of his ribs as she turned at a slight angle. Almost involuntarily, Fitz moved his head, resting it against the top of her breast. Jemma tucked her chin to look down at him, chuckling as she saw the way he stared at her body. 

“And then, I ran the drug back to you,” Fitz concluded rather brokenly, sliding one hand to squeeze her thigh as she continued to deny them both a full, true union. “And you saved Skye’s life. You were the real hero today.”

Jemma smiled, preferring to think about how well they had worked together that day than of Skye nearly dying or all the mysteries in Coulson’s file. 

“We make a good team,” she said. “Don’t we?”

Fitz nodded, apparently unable to speak further. He tilted his head to kiss her just above her nipple. Jemma groaned, her head falling back. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” she confessed, her voice throaty with need. “Ever since the mission – _ahhh_ – ended.’

“Triplett didn’t distract you?”

Jemma’s eyes opened and she stared at the wall of the bunk behind him, trying not to laugh at the tone of his voice. Only Fitz would be jealous of another man when he was the one naked and about to come. She kind of found it even hotter, though, that he would have noticed, would have cared in the midst of everything going on.

“He’s a bit of a flirt,” she allowed, wanting to tease him, wanting to make him possessive enough to show her – but Fitz didn’t respond. Jemma might have misjudged that one. So she leaned in, nibbling on his earlobe before speaking again, whispering urgently, “I bet if you tried really hard, you could make me forget all about him.”

Immediately, Fitz’s hands returned to her waist. He held her firmly as he pulled her completely onto him, his cock burying deep. Jemma cried out in surprise and relief. She leaned back, moving both hands to his cheeks as she kissed him, sucking on his tongue with quiet, little grunts. She didn’t raise up again, instead rotating her hips increasingly rapidly, squeezing around him and panting at the feel of her clit snug against him. After so much build-up, they both came quickly, and Jemma groaned into his mouth as she rode out her climax. Eventually, their movements stopped, leaving them clinging to each other for support. Fitz slumped against her, and Jemma wrapped both arms around him in a hug. She laughed somewhat incredulously, feeling like her smile was excessively giddy.

“You forget him?” Fitz asked, barely intelligible.

“Forget who?” Jemma breathed out, completely sincerely. It was only when Fitz started laughing, tightened his embrace around her, and kissed her bare shoulder, that she remembered what he meant.

**

The plane was dark and quiet; everyone else was asleep. Even May had trusted them to autopilot and turned in. Fitz rubbed at his eye as he finished preparing the mug of tea just the way Jemma liked it. He picked it up, carrying it carefully as he left the kitchen and descended into the lab. Jemma was bent over her microscope, and she did not look happy. He knew how single-minded she could get when the answer to a scientific mystery eluded her. And he certainly agreed with her that Coulson’s caginess about GH-325 was cause for concern. Of course, she hadn’t been down there and didn’t know what it had been like. Part of him couldn’t blame Coulson, to be honest.

“Here,” he said, placing the mug near her elbow.

“Oh!” She looked up, then at the mug, then back at him with a smile. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s late,” he informed her unnecessarily. “You should go to bed,” he added, despite knowing she wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t have bothered with the tea if he’d thought she’d listen. But it was worth a try. 

“I have one more test I want to run,” she replied. 

Fitz nodded in acceptance, if not agreement, suspecting it would be more like three or four tests. He stepped closer, smooshing his nose and pressing his lips against her forehead in a semi-kiss. Closing his eyes, he breathed in her scent. The feel of her hand coming up to rest on his chest prompted a half-smile. 

“I can stay up with you,” he murmured. 

“Mmm, go to bed. No point in both of us losing sleep.”

“You sure?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Fitz pulled back, opening his eyes. He traced his fingers down her cheek and hooked them under her chin, tilting her face up to give her a soft kiss. 

“Don’t stay up all night.”

If she ever came to bed, he didn’t know. She was in the lab the next morning by the time he got down there.

**

“Poor thing, he’s always getting knocked out, isn’t he?”

Jemma looked down at Fitz, unconscious on the floor after Coulson hit him. And yes, a part of her did feel bad for him. It wasn’t his fault, after all. Asgardian powers didn’t follow the same rules of nature that more earth-based lifeforms did. Purely scientific explanation, even if it was a science she didn’t truly understand yet. ( _Just like the GH formula._ )

At least that’s what she told herself. Because it was easier than thinking about the fact that her best friend, her husband, had been chasing her to do God knows what, all because he was enthralled with another woman. It was easier than thinking that he was convinced _Lorelai_ was his heart’s desire instead of… It was easier than thinking about how she’d feel someday when there were no superpowers involved, when he just found someone else he really loved.

It was easier than thinking a lot of things.


	13. Chapter 13

It didn’t make any sense at first. Scratch that, it still didn’t make any sense. But there it was, clear as day. The message Skye had just decoded indicated that Hydra was strong and active and operating from within S.H.I.E.L.D. Fitz shook his head, trying to understand. 

But really the first, the only thing he did understand was Garrett’s suggestion to abandon the plane and escape. Just because he understood it didn’t mean he agreed.

“Jemma is at the Hub. We have to save her.”

The conversation continued, and for all he knew, Fitz continued to participate in it. But his mind was elsewhere. Or perhaps more accurately, his mind had shut down, unable to process the fact that Jemma was in danger. Could in fact already be dead. 

He shook his head. No. No, they’d save her.

**

“Let me out.”

Trip scoffed. “Go ahead. This door won’t hold if they come looking, but they won’t come around this way for a little while. I’m staying.”

Jemma weighed her options, her heart in her throat as Trip walked closer and closer. She thought he was their friend, but according to Agent Weaver, she couldn’t be sure of anything. She closed her eyes briefly, thinking of Fitz and wondering if he was OK. Wishing she had listened to him and let him come with her instead of Trip. She’d never doubt him, and if nothing else, they’d be together now. 

“Well, how do I know I can trust you?” she finally asked, thinking back to the way he’d flirted with her. So aggressively after just meeting her, when her friend was dying in front of her. What had he been trying to accomplish? Men just didn’t – she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had shown any interest in her. That’s why she had needed to proposition Fitz, after all. 

“Because I’m trustworthy,” Trip responded, even as he pulled a knife on her.

Jemma gasped, stepping back farther in alarm. 

But it was just a test, it turned out. Jemma _could_ trust Trip, and it was one small, bright source of relief in her terror. Especially when they faced down Hand and her men together, another test that had Jemma believing she was about to meet her end. Her continued survival kept amazing her, but nothing compared to the happiness she felt when she saw Fitz for the first time. Pushing past the other agents, she ran straight to him. He lowered his hands from his pose of surrender to hug her back. 

Jemma closed her eyes, smiling as she held him close. Everything would be OK.

**

Fitz walked down the hall, grumbling silently to himself. Ever since the whole Hydra thing, when Jemma and Trip had been stuck alone during a crisis together – even before then, honestly, when she was fine with Trip going to the Hub with her and leaving him behind – Jemma had been extra friendly to the newest agent on their team. Just because his SO turned out to be a lying, killing Nazi did not mean they had to roll out the red carpet. Honestly, might he remind her that she’d barely given him a thought when they first met. And now –

“Hey. Got my lanyard.”

The interruption thankfully snapped Fitz out of his funk. He walked closer to Ward, smiling. “Nice.”

“So, are you guys taking off?”

“Yeah. I wish you were coming instead of Trip. He’s insufferable, isn’t he?”

“Trip? Think the guy’s OK.” Ward replied, somewhat confused. Fitz was surprised he hadn’t noticed, but he supposed Ward did have his own concerns at the moment, and he had missed a lot when he was gone with Hand. 

“He’s terrible,” Fitz explained, catching Ward up to speed. “He’s a horrible person.”

Ward gave him a weird sort of smile. “You sure this is about him? Not about Simmons?”

Silent alarms started going off in Fitz’s brain, saying _abort, abort_. “What the hell does that mean?”

Ward shrugged. “Everything is falling apart around us. We don’t know how it’ll end. If there’s something you want to tell her, don’t wait.”

Fitz didn’t reply for a long beat. He narrowed his eyes at Ward, finding his advice far too apt and knowing. What exactly had he figured out? Had he figured out anything? Ward’s expression stayed frustratingly neutral. “Maybe Jemma should check you again for a head injury,” he finally said. “’Cause that’s not the Ward that I know.”

“You know what? Do what you want. I don’t care.”

Fitz smiled. “Good to have you back,” he said. But as he walked away, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Ward knew more than he should and that could somehow end up badly for him.

**

Fitz was quiet, thinking about the situation between Coulson and Audrey. Before he could reply to Coulson’s own musings on the subject, footsteps warned of someone approaching. They both looked over, and Fitz smiled as soon as Jemma entered. Coulson excused himself, and Fitz focused entirely on Jemma.

“We need to talk,” she said, immediately making him nervous. 

“We do?”

“Agent Triplett thinks he’s done something to upset you.” Fitz broke eye contact and tried not to jump to any conclusions. “Fitz, if you’re questioning his loyalty in any way, I can assure you – ”

“It’s not him.” Of course it wasn’t. And obviously he wasn’t questioning Trip’s loyalty. He was far too good to be a suspect. Even if he wasn’t, he trusted Jemma’s opinion. On allies, if not necessarily on potential boyfriends. 

“Well, what is it then?” she asked, still a bit put out.

“Uh…” Fitz stalled. “You know how I can be. I hate change,” he finally admitted. It was something like the truth. She could think he meant the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma replied, comforting with just a hint of exasperation. She sat next to him, reached out and took his hand. “Unfortunately, I – ”

“I feel sorry for them,” he blurted.

“Who?” she asked, brow furrowing.

“Coulson. And Audrey.”

Jemma nodded in understanding. “Oh. Yes, I suppose so. All that time they could have had together.”

“If only he’d – said something.”

“She still loves him, after everything,” Jemma observed sadly. “It’s…romantic.”

Fitz smiled softly, looking down at where their hands intertwined. “You said the same thing earlier about Daniels’ stalking,” he teased.

“No, I said _almost_. This is different. She – she was so strong and brave. Even the memory of him…”

Fitz met her eyes, remembering how brave Jemma herself always was. Too brave, sometimes. “He just wants her to be safe and happy.”

Jemma tilted her head, not quite agreeing. “She’d be happier with him, despite the danger. Far be it from me to criticize Coulson, but I don’t think he should get to make that choice for her.”

Fitz stared at her for a long time, feeling his heartbeat start to race. He wondered if she saw the similarities between them – of course not, because that would mean there _were_ similarities. But she didn’t feel the same way for him that Audrey felt for Coulson and she never would. Certainly, she loved him, he knew that. Just not in the same way. They were not some star-crossed lovers kept apart by the cosmos or even just by S.H.I.E.L.D. bureaucracy. Nothing was preventing them from really being together because they weren’t meant to _be_ together. She didn’t want that, whether he liked it or not.

**

She had found herself reaching out and touching him at various moments throughout the day, just to make sure he was really there. It made her feel better, even when he was being annoying, such as when he got snippy with Trip or searched for a way to defend Ward. None of that mattered, because Jemma was quite relieved that – well, she’d never want anyone besides Fitz to be by her side at times like this.

The hotel was small and a bit run-down, but the important part was there were very few other guests. And thankfully none out by the pool with them. Jemma gazed at the water swirling around her legs. Fitz sat close beside her, their feet barely touching on the top step of the pool’s entrance, and their pinky fingers hooked around each other as they gripped the edge. 

Fitz had begged her to confirm she wasn’t Hydra, the silly man, and had later finally confessed that he’d shot someone during the battle at the Hub, that he’d actually killed someone and saw him die. He told her it like he was ashamed, like she’d think less of him, like he thought that made him as bad as Ward. 

She was quick to disabuse him of that notion. 

And now they were silent. Jemma leaned against him, remembering all the times she used to sit in the same position in the privacy of their flat. Wondering if they wouldn’t have been better off if they’d just – but no. Hydra was everywhere within S.H.I.E.L.D., and without their experiences in the field, without the team they’d formed, they might not be alive now. 

That was all that mattered. That she was here with Fitz and they were both OK. Like he said once, she’d never regret anything that kept them together. 

Jemma sighed, then sensed Fitz glance over at her. 

“Tired?”

She nodded, feeling that truth was easier to communicate than all the rest of her jumbled thoughts and emotions. Fitz jostled her a bit as he stood, carefully balancing as he stepped out of the water, and then held his hand out to pull her to her feet. 

“Let’s go to bed.”

Jemma followed him, not letting go of his hand and using it to keep close to him. With her free hand, she waved goodnight at the others, who were still sitting quietly at the table by the vending machine. When they arrived at their room, Fitz unlocked the door and held it for her. Jemma entered, turning to watch him as he closed the door and placed the key card on the small table under the window. Then she walked back to him, sliding one hand up his chest to his neck, her fingers catching beneath the collar of his shirt as she pulled him into a soft, tender kiss. 

His lips separated, and she slipped her tongue inside his mouth. Everything seemed unbearably intimate. A security light outside peeked through the split in the curtain, and noise from the highway and running air conditioning units broke the silence, reminding her that there was a world out there around them. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t escape it for a while.

“I’m not ready for sleep yet,” Jemma whispered. 

Fitz tightened his arms around her briefly, before shifting around, bending slightly at the knees, and unexpectedly scooping her up. He carried her bridal style, reminding Jemma far too much of the time after their first _real_ date, and rested one knee on the bed to support them as he lowered her down. Jemma didn’t let him straighten after that, pulling him closer by his shirt and continuing to kiss him. 

Eventually they separated, or at least enough to remove their clothes and pull down the blankets. Fitz climbed into the bed with her, and she pulled up the lightweight sheet to cover them both. Propping himself up on his elbows and holding her head in his hands, his fingers threaded into her hair as it fanned out on the pillow, he stared into her eyes through the dim light. Jemma felt as if – everything seemed – she shifted into place and lifted her hips until he entered her. The sensation caused her eyes to roll back into her head and prompted a deep groan from her. They moved slowly, making eye contact whenever she managed to focus. She bit her lip to prevent her moans until he kissed her again, and then she couldn’t stop them. She ran her hands across his back underneath the sheet, holding him as close as possible as they rocked together. Fitz’s breath grew louder, more unsteady each time he stopped kissing her briefly before capturing her lips again. 

She didn’t want to think about how they’d almost lost this, almost lost each other, to the very organization that had brought them together. 

“Jemma, I’m – I – I lo – ”

“Oh, Fitz,” she gasped, cutting off whatever sweet nothings he’d been trying to say. Desire was building in her, and she repeated herself, another breathless _Oh, Fitz_ with each faster, harder thrust. Her caresses turned into scratching her nails across his shoulder blades, and she lifted her head off the pillow to kiss him harder, muffling her voice as she came. Her climax triggered his own, and he went nonverbal, holding her tighter as his release jetted inside her.

Jemma collapsed, and Fitz dropped boneless on top of her. Her hips still moved in small, echoing rolls, trying to eke out the last little bits of pleasure before she too finally stopped. Her leg slipped off the back of his calf to fall onto the mattress, as she sighed out one more “Oh, Fitz.”


	14. Chapter 14

He’d been trying to get his fill of her, not knowing how long he had left to just look at her, talk to her, be near her. From the moment he realized that the pod was sinking, he knew it would be the end of them – literally. He was terrified and incredibly sad, and he knew he wasn’t doing a fantastic job of hiding either of those emotions. But he was also grateful that he wasn’t alone, that they got to spend their last moments together.

Obviously, it wasn’t the ideal scenario. He would’ve preferred for Jemma to be somewhere else safe and sound right now. But if that wasn’t to be, then he’d take her like she was right then. Calm and accepting, tapping into science and optimism as she mused on the nature of life and death. She was always beautiful to him but now, in the glow of the emergency lighting, staring out into the blue-black of the ocean, she was transcendent. 

God, Fitz loved her. He was so _annoyed_ with himself for never confessing it earlier. He wouldn’t let another chance slip through his fingers. Fitz inhaled, opening his mouth to tell her everything.

“Jemma,” he began, but trailed off when she became distracted. He watched as she placed her hands on the window. “What?”

“The glass. Fitz, the glass!”

The next few moments passed in a rush of teamwork and problem-solving, and soon Fitz was climbing to his feet and jumping up and down in excitement. That lasted all of a second before his arm protested. He felt Jemma’s hands comforting him, even as she started to plan. His declaration would have to wait – they had their whole lives ahead of them now, as soon as they got the rest of the details figured out.

**

The truth began to niggle at the back of his mind fairly early into their work. He didn’t want to say anything at first, in case he was wrong. But he wasn’t. There was only the one resuscitator. And then he didn’t want to say anything because she’d just get upset and wouldn’t be able to concentrate or would try to come up with some alternative and there just wasn’t enough time. But he knew it was the only way and he knew what had to be done.

Finally, they had things ready to go. He powered up the defibrillator while she was finishing up by the window.

“All right, we need to hurry,” he said. “We have to do this soon. There has to be enough – ”

“Oxygen to ignite, yes.”

He walked over by her, checking a few things and confirming everything was ready. They stepped back towards the middle of the pod, facing each other. Fitz breathed rather heavily, a combination of fear and urgency.

“OK, now when I press that power button – ”

“The window will blow in and water will rush inwards.”

“Yeah. Which is gonna be like a hundred punches to the stomach, OK? The wind’s gonna be knocked right out of us.” Turning around, he picked up the resuscitator and held it up in front of her. “Now, this is near empty, but I’ve rigged it to let out a burst of very high pressure – should force a breath into your lungs.”

She was nodding, looking nervous but determined. Fitz found it difficult to continue, but she needed to understand, she needed to listen. “But you have to hold onto it, okay, hold on tight. Should be enough to get you up the 90 feet or so.”

And that’s when she started to figure it out. “One breath? But there’s two of us.”

“Yeah,” Fitz replied, sighing, “I’ve done the math.” He breathed heavily as he watched her face fall. “That’s why you’re taking it. You’re a better swimmer anyway.”

She shook her head slightly, confused and unaccepting. Maybe Fitz should have said something earlier so she didn’t fight him now. There was no time. “Jemma – ”

“No! I’m not leaving you here. That’s ridiculous; we need a new plan!” she said, voice quickening in panic. 

He shook his head. “We’re not discussing it, OK? You’re taking it – end of story. I couldn’t live if you didn’t.”

“Well, I feel the same way,” she countered. “There has to be another way.”

“You’re taking it,” he repeated firmly.

“Why?! Why would you make me do this? You’re my best friend in the world!” she yelled.

“Yeah, and you’re more than that, Jemma.” She breathed in sharply with shock, perhaps because she hadn’t realized or perhaps because he finally admitted it. It had been surprisingly easy in the end. After all that denial, all that worry and now… “I couldn’t find the courage to tell you. So please…let me show you.”

Jemma stared at him, speechless. Her confusion started to shift to something else – despair or anger or some combination of the two. She shook her head again, tears starting to fall freely down her face. 

“Don’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me.” 

He gave her a short, pained smile, but she didn’t even notice. 

“We have a rule!” she shouted.

His laugh was harsh and broken, quiet but loud enough to catch her attention. “Never did put in writing, though, did we?” he tried to joke, and her anger won out. She stepped forward, placing her fists on his chest and pounding weakly. He caught them, holding her hands in his own as he attempted to look into her eyes. “Besides, that was you not risking yourself for me, wasn’t it?”

“No!” she sobbed.

Fitz shook his head quickly. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, forcing himself to sound as optimistic and carefree as possible. “Because I’ve gone and broken the rule we never thought to make anyway. You mean something – you mean _everything_ to me. I…this hasn’t been fake in a long time.”

“Fitz, please!”

He didn’t let her try to argue. There was no time; they had to hurry or there wouldn’t be enough oxygen left to burn.

“It’s OK,” he murmured, not even sure she heard him over her sobs. She just kept shaking her head, gasping in an attempt to calm down and no doubt argue with him. “Take it,” he added, pressing the resuscitator into her trembling hands.

She stared at it, and Fitz took advantage of her distraction to turn away from her and reach for the button. 

“’Til death do us part, right?” he said, offering her one last brave smile as he punched it.

He thought he heard her screams over the explosion and the rush of water, but it could have been his imagination. And then everything went black.

**

When the water hit her, she was pushed forward and she almost dropped the resuscitator, but after a moment of disorientation and shock and feeling like she was going to pass out, she fought with everything in her to hold onto it and bring it up to her face. It worked as Fitz had said, the pressure filling her lungs and filling her spirit with a new burst of energy and determination. She let it go and instead pulled at the water around her to turn. She looked frantically, the swirling water rushing into the pod confusing her and blocking her sight. There – there he was.

Jemma reached out, grabbing onto his shirt collar and holding tight. She could feel her nails digging into her palm even through the fabric. Finding a strength she didn’t realize she had, she reached one arm out, pulling both herself and Fitz through the window. 

The surface seemed so far away. 

She didn’t let herself think about that, just kept mentally chanting _reach, pull, kick_ again and again and again. Almost there, almost there. Her lungs screamed for air, and the changing pressure felt like it was crushing her. She’d worry about the bends later; one thing at a time. _Reach, pull, kick._

It didn’t even seem real when she burst through the surface and heaved a fresh breath. With a grunt, she pulled Fitz up the remaining distance, nearly crying when his head cleared the water. He was unconscious and so pale and not breathing, but he was there. He was _there_ , not at the bottom alone and dead. Jemma treaded water with one arm – exhausted and desperate as a new fear set in because now they were in the middle – 

There was a helicopter right above her. Nick Fury was leaning out of the open door, extending his hand. 

She wondered for a hysterical moment if she had died after all, and this was the last few synapses in her brain firing in some sort of – their hands clasped, and he began to pull and the strain on her shoulder made her realize it was all true.

“Wait!” she shouted, aware that this was never going to work. “Fitz first!”

She spread her fingers out, forcing him to let go. She dropped, splashing below the surface and nearly letting go of Fitz for a horrible moment. Once she’d regained control, she wrapped both of her arms around his waist, nearly screaming from the effort of trying to lift him as high as she could. 

Of course, that was an equally ineffective strategy, and she felt pretty dumb when, finally, one of the other agents on board appeared with a long, hooked pole. After two tries, they got it around him, and Jemma could only watch helpless as they dragged him up. 

Her own turn was next. The phrase drowned rat seemed particularly appropriate when she finally collapsed onto the floor of the helicopter. She tried to push herself up, tried to tell them what they needed to do for Fitz, tried to ask Fury all the questions she had – but her arms gave out and she fell again, nearly smacking her head on the floor. 

“Sit your ass down, Agent Simmons,” she heard Fury order as she, perhaps mercifully, lost consciousness.

**

It was day 3.

Or, as the calendar called it, Friday. But Jemma didn’t keep track of time the same way anymore. She leaned forward, adjusting the various cords slightly where they rested against the cast on his arm. Then, she ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it off his forehead. She should look into getting some dry shampoo or something. But that would be admitting he wouldn’t wake up and wash it himself anytime soon. 

Jemma closed her eyes against a sudden flashback of them back in their old flat, slipping and sliding along the floor of the shower as they turned under the flow of water. The shampoo had stung her eyes as it streamed down her face, but she had been too focused on the feel of Fitz’s hands in her hair and his body pressing tightly against hers. They had been laughing about something; Jemma didn’t even remember what had been so funny, but she could vividly recall the width of his grin and the way his throat had bobbed with his chuckles. 

She sniffed, wiping at her eyes quickly, and forcefully suppressed the memory. Those days were long gone, and she had other things to worry about. With a sigh, she looked away from him, picking up her tablet and trying to read again. She had found and bookmarked so many articles about every possible outcome she could think of, determined to be ready as soon as he woke up. 

She made it only a few sentences before the door opened. Looking up, Jemma watched as May entered the room and closed the door behind her. 

“Do you need something, May?” she finally asked.

“Checking on you actually.”

Jemma glanced at Fitz again. “We’re fine.”

“Any change?” May asked, sitting in the chair on the other side of the bed. 

Jemma shook her head, unable to verbalize her response. May sat quietly for a moment, watching Fitz with a maternal expression that Jemma had never seen from her before. 

“He’s scrappy, but he’s a fighter.”

Jemma laughed somewhat derisively, blinking her eyes as she looked up to the corner of the ceiling. “If you’re going to say next that he’ll find his way back to me, you can save your breath. Skye already did this morning.”

May shrugged. “Wasn’t going to say that. I think he’s going to wake up and I think he loves you, but I’ve never bought into the notion that those things have to be related. There are far too many people who love someone but never wake up for that to be true.” 

Jemma faced May again, vaguely surprised by her honesty and off-kilter enough to confess some things of her own. 

“He loves me,” she whispered, breathing in shakily at the end.

May seemed very much like she wanted to roll her eyes. “Well, of course he does.”

“No,” Jemma replied, shaking her head. “No, you don’t understand – ”

“You’re trying to tell me what you think I don’t know, and I’m telling you what I see with my own two eyes.”

Jemma fell back into her seat, breathing heavily. “He loves me and I – I – ”

“You love him.”

“I don’t know!” she nearly shouted. Lifting both hands to her face, she swiped away her tears. “I’ve spent so long convincing myself it was just – and now I’m too afraid and too – too _angry_ at him to feel anything else.”

“Jemma,” May began, leaning forward. 

She jumped to her feet, tossing the tablet on the seat she just vacated. “He broke our fucking rule,” she bit out, then hurried from the room.


	15. Chapter 15

Jemma’s eyes swam as she tried to add to the file on cloaking. She wondered if she was so daunted by it because of her lack of sleep or because it was beyond her engineering prowess anyway. 

Most likely it was because the person who should be trying to figure it out was sitting quietly at his assigned bench, instead trying to figure out how to hold a tool without his hand shaking uncontrollably. Jemma surreptitiously looked over to check on him again. She’d learned very early on that any sort of obvious attention from her, any attempt to help, was not appreciated. 

Jemma blinked, sighed softly, and looked away before he caught her watching him. With renewed determination, she moved her hands to the keyboard, ready to type up her latest ideas. She began with the day and date. 

And then she stared at it for a long time.

It was the last Friday of the month. Date Night, she thought to herself wryly. 

After a moment, she looked over at Fitz again. He seemed frustrated yet determined, an expression she knew well – if not under these particular circumstances. Really, they could probably both do with a break.

“Fitz?” she asked quietly. 

He dropped the tool with a clatter. He moved his hand to his thigh, splaying out his fingers and wiping his palm off on his trousers. But he didn’t look at her.

“Yeah?” he finally said. 

“Did you – I thought it might be nice to go out for dinner tonight. Did you…want to join me?”

A very loud silence filled the room, and Jemma waited nervously. Soon, she was ready to dismiss the idea so he didn’t have to turn her down. She opened her mouth, trying to articulate the words she wanted.

“OK.”

Jemma blinked. Her confusion quickly gave way to relief, and she smiled, her shoulders slumping. 

“Anywhere in particular?” she asked, voice maybe too bright and cheerful. 

“No.”

She couldn’t remember a time he didn’t have an opinion on where they ate, but she let it slide. For the next several hours, she neglected the cloaking, pretending she was letting her subconscious work the problem she knew she’d never solve by herself, and instead she clicked around the internet, looking for local restaurants. She dismissed a few outright, knowing he wouldn’t like them. Others didn’t work because they were far too expensive for someone who no longer _technically_ had bank accounts or credit cards. 

And some were rejected because they looked too romantic. The kind of place you might go for a proposal or an anniversary. Those Jemma refused to even consider. 

Finally, she made her selection, then excused herself to go change. She didn’t look in the mirror too much as she didn’t want to see the hopeful smile on her face or the nerves in her eyes. She chose an outfit that was casual yet flattering, not too date-like but still appropriate for an evening out. And just because she was feeling happy, she curled her hair. 

Fitz was waiting for her by the entrance to the base. He hadn’t changed. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was gnawing on his lower lip as he stared into space. 

Jemma steeled herself. “Ready?”

He glanced at her, his eyes dropping down to take in her outfit in an involuntary gesture that was far too familiar. Then he sighed and turned away. “Yeah.”

Jemma hesitated a moment, a little thrown. And then she straightened her shoulders and nodded once. She followed him out of the base.

His attitude didn’t improve when they arrived at the restaurant. He gave the sign a withering look and followed her slowly inside. Apparently, unlike her, his first thought hadn’t been to remember the innumerable times they sat on the couch, legs intertwined and passing cartons back and forth. The way he’d hold out chunks of meat for her to bite out of the grip of his chopsticks, or the way she’d wipe the sauce off his lips then suck it off her thumb while holding his gaze, or the way they’d laugh, eyes dancing, over the addition of _in bed_ to every fortune until they couldn’t stand it anymore and moved _themselves_ into bed. 

Not that – not that she _wanted_ him to remember all that. She didn’t want to address that elephant quite yet, mostly because she hadn’t figured out her own feelings on the matter. But at the very least, Chinese was some of his favorite food. 

As if anyone could tell with how frustratingly grumpy he was inside the restaurant. He just fixed Jemma with a stare until she responded “neither” for him to the soup question. And when the waiter placed chopsticks at their table, he picked them up, said “really?” and threw them back down, leaving Jemma to politely ask for a fork instead. Every question was met with a one-word answer, every observation with a quiet grunt. Jemma wanted to cry, horrified by her poor choice of a restaurant and devastated by his reaction. 

She didn’t cry, though, not until the next morning when, after his check-up, his doctors quietly informed her that he’d scored lower than the previous time, that they didn’t know why but he seemed to be regressing or at least hitting a wall. At that, Jemma nodded in understanding, excused herself, and escaped into her bunk, the one that Fitz had never moved into after he woke up. She curled up in a ball on the bed and wept bitterly.

**

“So that’s the mission.”

“I understand, sir,” Jemma confirmed once Coulson concluded. The goals itself were fairly straightforward, and she was choosing not to think about the danger. “I will…do my best.”

“I have the utmost faith in you, Agent Fitz-Simmons.” He folded his hands on top of his desk and leaned forward, losing the director mantle and becoming more of the paternal mentor he’d been back in the field. “Jemma – are you sure?”

Jemma inhaled slowly, then nodded. She knew he had to ask, and figured he’d probably been wondering about her decision ever since she first asked him for a new assignment off the base. But she wanted to avoid talking about it more than she had to.

“I’m certain, Director Coulson.”

He looked off to the side briefly, then faced her again. “What about Fitz?”

She imagined everyone would be thinking the same thing soon enough, that she was abandoning him when he needed her most. In a way, she supposed she was. 

That was the point.

“He’s…never going to get better while I’m here.” It was the first time she’d said it aloud. “I’m holding him back.”

“I think you should at least tell him and the others.”

She shook her head sharply. “He’ll worry too much. Besides, not much of a secret plan if everyone knows, is it?” 

They were both silent for a long beat. Jemma couldn’t look at him. 

“So you’re just going to make up some story and then disappear indefinitely?”

“Yep,” she confirmed, nodding firmly as if it would sell her conviction.

“What about in sickness and in health?”

She faced him with a smile forced to be condescending so her pain and her shame didn’t show through. “Not you too, sir. I guess we fooled everyone.”

“What do you mean?”

Jemma sighed, lifting a hand to run it through her hair as she focused on the corner of the room. “I suppose S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t officially exist anymore so neither does its anti-fraternization policy. Director Coulson, we were never truly married.”

After a very long pause, Coulson spoke quietly. “Well, you certainly fooled some people.”

**

When they’d finally kicked him out of the infirmary, Fitz had requested his own room, honestly claiming nightmares and insomnia that would have been too disruptive for Jemma, especially since she was forced to do both their work. Truth was he just couldn’t bear to share a bunk with her anymore. It was hard to be around her most of the time, hard to feel the waves of pity rolling off her, to sense her wanting to jump in and finish his stalled sentences or control whatever shook in his hand.

Most of all, it was hard to be around her and _know_ that she didn’t love him. It hurt like hell, but he didn’t want her to feel guilty. He had always known she didn’t return his feelings. He would have made the same choice down in that pod regardless, and he wasn’t looking for any sort of gratitude or obligation. But it still hurt like hell. 

Not that he could blame her _now_ , of course. The one thing he’d ever been able to offer her that other guys she’d dated couldn’t was his brain. He wasn’t the tallest or the bravest or the most muscular or the funniest, but he had always matched her step by step in the lab and the classroom. The twinkle in her eye and awe in her voice whenever he’d presented a new idea to her would haunt him forever. God, she had married him just to keep their partnership together. 

And now he couldn’t even tie his shoes. 

Fitz growled in frustration, dropping the laces and pushing his fist against the palm of his bad hand. He breathed in and out a few times, struggling against the tears that seemed to come so easily these days no matter how he tried to stop them. And then he lifted his foot, hooking it on the bedframe, and he leaned forward again, determined to succeed this time. Before he could try, however, there was a knock on the door.

“Co – come in,” he called out.

The door opened and Jemma peeked around the corner. She gave him a too-wide smile.

“Good morning, Fitz! How are you?”

He shrugged, lowering his foot again so his problem wasn’t as obvious. She entered, closing the door behind her. It seemed to take an unnaturally long time, but finally she faced him again. She walked closer, wringing her hands with nerves. Fitz felt his own heart start to race.

“I just – I wanted to tell you that…I’m going to visit my parents for a few weeks.”

She was lying. She was much better at it than she had ever been in the past, almost like she’d been practicing. But he knew her too well and she was lying. He just didn’t understand why. 

He also didn’t understand why she’d leave _now_. Didn’t she realize that…he needed her? He _needed_ her. How could she just go?

Because she couldn’t be around him anymore. Because he was driving her away, and he didn’t know how to stop. 

Fitz swallowed.

“Have a g – good tchr…trip,” he said, forcing a smile. “Say hi.”

She nodded rapidly, not quite meeting his eyes. “I will,” she replied, reaching a hand out towards him and then letting it drop. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

He stared at her for a beat, but she made no move to speak or – finally she made eye contact, giving him another grimacing smile. He had seen too many of those in the last few weeks. 

“Just keep working on – ” He could tell she was searching for something that wouldn’t upset him, and it was almost comical, in a horrible way, how her eyes darted from his untied shoelace to his neglected neckties to the PT equipment in the corner of the room to the digital recorder he used to practice saying all the jumbled thoughts in his brain that got even more jumbled on their way out. 

“The cl – cloaking,” he finally offered.

“Yes!” she agreed, choking back a sob. “We all believe in you, you know.” 

Fitz stood, not wanting to go down this path. Their unsubtle attempts to hide their expectations and impatience weighed on him. He tried to find a way to change the subject, or better yet, get her to leave for wherever she was going that was better than being with him. 

“Safe…travels,” he managed to say.

Jemma seemed surprised that he was dismissing her, and she nodded quickly. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, looking like him in a twistedly amusing way. Then she turned, heading for the door. Fitz watched her go, and he was surprised when, instead of exiting the room, she turned and rushed back to him. Before he realized what was happening, she had wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, urged him “Take care of yourself,” and then let him go to race from the room. She was probably gone for a full minute before Fitz was able to move.

**

Jemma stared up at the ceiling through the dark room. Surrounding her bed, with just a path to the door, were several boxes of clothes and various items. It was odd. She’d never lived alone, unless one counted the year in the dorms at the Academy. She didn’t – not when there were dozens of other women up and down her hallway and Fitz in her room nearly every evening working on assignments and watching telly and otherwise annoying her. That wasn’t true; he had never _really_ annoyed her.

She hadn’t realized how lonely and quiet a flat could be when you were the only one in it. 

Jemma heaved a breath and let it out slowly. She was starting work at Hydra tomorrow. Which meant she’d probably be lucky to survive the week. 

She was doing this for Fitz, she reminded herself. Really, for all their friends – it was a way to get revenge and to get intel so they could stomp out the remnants of Hydra left after Captain America’s victory. It was an important job and she was grateful and honored that Coulson had trusted her with it. 

But she was truly doing it for Fitz. If he managed to overcome the barriers her presence caused and find his words and his confidence and his happiness again, then any sacrifice of hers would be worth it. It wouldn’t come anywhere close to making them even, but it’d be worth it.

And maybe in the meantime, she could untangle her feelings for him.


	16. Chapter 16

Fitz just preferred to be by himself these days. And, well, really, that wasn’t anything new. He had always been more of a loner, apart from – he just didn’t feel like talking to anyone, that was all. Especially not Skye or Trip or May or Coulson. They just…well, they just…

And the new people were just a little too much to handle. Mack, was too big – built like a small tank. Not that Fitz thought he was in any danger from him. Of course not. But he never thought he was in any danger from Ward either. Or, for that matter, from his fa – 

Idaho rarely spoke to anyone, and Fitz could respect that. The other one, Hunter, was…English. He just reminded Fitz too much of – and besides, he never took anything seriously. He was obnoxious. 

And Hartley? Forget about it. No one could ever be as intimidating as Agent May, but she came close. 

No, Fitz saw no need to try to get to know any of them. They probably wouldn’t even be around that long. So…

“They seem perfectly nice. Why don’t you make friends for a change?”

Fitz turned in surprise, dropping the device he was pretending to work on. No one ever did any tech work in the Bus anymore. Their lab had been torn out, even, all the pieces repurposed in the new lab. But Fitz still liked to spend most of his time in there, when it wasn’t out on missions. If for no other reason, then because few people disturbed him. 

His mouth hung open, and he was speechless. She was – she was – 

“You’re back,” he said, immediately feeling dumb for the obvious comment.

She shot him a brief smile, walking closer, skimming her fingers over the top of the counter. Fitz blinked, closed his mouth and shook his head. 

“How – were your parents?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she tilted her head and gave him a fondly exasperated look. “Why are you hiding in here?”

“I’m not hiding,” he protested. “I just – ”

“Hey, Fitz!” 

He looked away, attention stolen by Skye as she entered the room. 

“There you are! We’re all meeting now. Coulson wants to talk strategy.”

He furrowed his brow. He was still only on part-time, non-essential duty, and so he couldn’t imagine Coulson would need him for anything. 

“Do you mean me or – ”

Skye looked over her shoulder as she walked away, shooting him a slightly confused, slightly amused look. “Who else would I mean?”

Fitz turned to Jemma to see if she understood Skye’s comment. But there was no one there.

Fitz took a startled step backwards. “What the hell?”

**

There was something wrong. The unexpected sound put Jemma on high alert. As quietly as she could, she reached into her purse and pulled out her gun. She slowly, cautiously moved, staying as close as possible to the wall until she reached the door to the kitchen. After taking a breath to calm her nerves, she turned, bringing the gun up to aim.

And then immediately relaxed.

Coulson greeted her in a typically Coulson manner, and then proceeded to cook her dinner. Honestly, it was nice. She was incredibly lonely undercover. She missed Coulson and May, Skye and Trip. She missed the camaraderie and the laughter. She missed having people who cared about her and watched her back. She missed…so many things. 

“How is…everyone?” she asked. 

Coulson’s expression was difficult to read, at least until he replied. “Fitz is OK. He’s hanging in there.”

Jemma’s smile felt uncomfortably strained and she broke eye contact. She still didn’t know quite what to think about the whole situation. She tried not to think about it at all, really. Yet, it was all she thought about.

She wondered how good _OK_ was. She wondered what hanging in there meant. She wondered if Coulson was lying to make her feel better, or if Fitz was actually doing better and so she’d made the right choice. 

She wondered if he hated her.

**

He was ashamed to admit he was pouting, even though it was perhaps not the most mature response to the situation. But he didn’t know why Coulson was scolding _him_. _He_ wasn’t the one who was keeping a killer locked up in the basement without – without – and besides, it wasn’t like he hurt Ward. He just wanted to make him feel for one second the fear that Fitz had.

He couldn’t believe that Ward actually tried to claim he did it to give them a fighting chance. That he had wanted to _save_ them. All he would need to do is spend two minutes with Fitz to see how untrue that was. And it wasn’t even the worst thing that Ward had done. He’d also – he’d taken Jemma from him. 

Fitz suppressed a sigh, trying to be understanding of Coulson’s position. At least until he concluded by reminding Fitz that he kept many secrets. There was only one secret Fitz wanted to know, though. Because weeks had passed now, so she should have returned. Because no one else seemed to know why she hadn’t, or at least didn’t want to tell him. Because Coulson had too quickly ignored Fitz when he had pointedly suggested they call her for information on Donnie. 

Because Fitz was desperate just to know where she was. 

“And is, um…is there anything…is there anything more?” he asked, pretending to be unaffected. Dismissively curious. 

“That I’m keeping from you? Yeah. I’m director; there’s a hell of a lot more.” Coulson paused, then added, “But there is one other thing you should know. Simmons is on an assignment. That’s why she hasn’t been in contact. That’s why she left.”

Fitz pursed his lips in a probably laughable attempt at hiding his emotion. He shrugged inelegantly. “And, um – did she ask to go on the assignment? Did she want to leave?”

Coulson obviously evaded answering, and then left. Fitz blinked, trying to calm himself after the unexpected news. He didn’t know what he’d hoped Coulson’s answer would be. Was Jemma forced to leave him? Had she wanted to stay after all – or had she begged? Had she willingly thrown herself to the wolves just to get away from him? 

Either way, she was out there alone, probably in more danger than she’d ever been, and he wasn’t there to protect her.

**

After it was all over, and the Hydra field team dropped her at her flat, Jemma held it together long enough to get out of their sight and into privacy. As soon as she closed the door behind her, though, she fell to her knees. Curling up with her face in her hands, she lowered to the floor and cried. Having seen Skye from a distance and knowing her team was there but she still had to leave with Bakshi and the others had been hard and yet perhaps the easiest of all. In fact, it was nothing compared to trying to brainwash poor Donnie, as if it were her destiny to compromise the minds of people who trusted her.

And worst of all was watching him sink lifelessly away, a brilliant, kind boy being sucked into the dark sea.

**

He squeezed the neck of the bottle for a moment, his other hand resting on the cap. The cool condensation dampened his fingers, and he could feel his wedding ring sliding against the glass. The others were talking, but he wasn’t quite hearing them. Instead, he was recalling the earlier conversation, the one he had been unable and unwilling to participate in. The one that had niggled at the back of his mind all day. He didn’t know if he wanted to share because he wanted to make friends, as – as whatever she was kept encouraging him to do, or if it was because he simply needed to say it out loud.

“Yeah, so, my…my ex,” he began, pausing suddenly to take a deep breath. It was the first time he called her that. It didn’t feel real or true. Of course, it wasn’t – they were still technically married. Besides, he didn’t think it was possible to break up with someone you never were actually with. “My ex,” he repeated, getting used to how it sounded in his mouth. “She, she, she – I wish it were because of this,” he continued, gesturing at his head. “But truth is she didn’t feel the same way about me. Didn’t even before.”

There. He’d said it. 

Neither Hunter nor Mack responded for a beat, and he just stared at them. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was waiting for. Seven seconds later, Hunter and Mack exchanged a quick glance, then looked back at him.

“Well…her loss then, mate,” Hunter said. “From what I can see, she’s missing out.”

“Yeah,” Fitz said, his smile feeling almost sincere. He looked down at his beer, finally twisting the cap off. Almost involuntarily, he turned to look at the corner _she_ had been standing in before. There was nothing there.

There had never been anything there.

**

He was glad Trip took the Quinjet, rather than the Bus. It meant he could sneak his way into their old bunk. Fitz wedged himself into the far corner, in the few inches of space between the foot of the bed and the dividing wall. Bracing one hand against the wall, he slid down until he could just drop to the ground. And then he pulled his knees up, wrapped his arms around them, and buried his face. One of his legs jiggled with nerves, and his breathing seemed loud in the small space.

Coulson claimed everything was under control, that she had never been in any danger. But Hunter told him about the picture, about the threat Raina had made. By Fitz’s calculations, it had been 28 minutes since she’d sent the information to the rest of the Hydra staff in the labs. More than enough time for…

Fitz sighed loudly. “I should be there,” he told the empty room. 

“ _Oh, nonsense._ ”

“It’s _not_ nonsense,” Fitz argued immediately, lifting his head and turning to look at…her. “I should be. I – you – ”

“ _Trip has everything under control, I’m sure._ ”

Fitz huffed, looking forward again. “Even in my subconscious, you prefer Trip.

“ _I don’t prefer him, don’t be silly. But I wouldn’t want you there, anyway. I want you here, safe and sound. I don’t need you to protect me._ ”

Fitz shook his head. “That’s my job. I’m your hus – ”

“ _Don’t remember that in our vows. And besides…_ ”

“It was never real,” Fitz concluded for her, not wanting to hear those words come from her mouth. Even if she was the one who wasn’t real.

**

Coulson dismissed her, once he realized what – who – had captured her attention. Barely registering the supportive touch from May, she walked into the lab, taking the time to slowly close the door behind her. When she turned back to the room, he was staring at her, seeming almost in disbelief as he fidgeted with his hands.

“Hi, Fitz,” she began. It seemed like such a weak greeting, after so long. 

“Jemma.” She nearly started crying at the sound of his voice, uncertain if it was because he was able to say it so easily or if it was just because she got to hear it again. “Is that really you?”

She furrowed her brow, feeling slightly confused, but forced a smile anyway. “Who else would it be?”

He pressed his lips together, almost seeming like he was fighting tears. And then he shrugged.

There were so many things she wanted to say, things she had given up the right to say.

_I missed you._

_I’m sorry._

_I think maybe I love you, but it’s too late to try to figure that out now, isn’t it?_


	17. Chapter 17

Jemma stood in front of the mirror in her room, staring at herself. She felt different, and she was curious if it reflected physically. She wondered if Fitz would notice or even care. After a moment, she sighed, then pulled open the drawer in front of her. There was a large envelope stuffed far in the back, holding the important possessions she hadn’t dared taken with her to Hydra. She opened the flap and then upended it, dumping out the contents. 

There was her lanyard, the photograph taken when she first arrived at the Playground far, far different from the first staff picture she’d ever taken for S.H.I.E.L.D. There was her phone, which beeped with twenty-seven messages when she turned it on. Most were from Skye, before she too finally stopped calling her. One message was a video; Jemma hit play, then had to cover her mouth to stop her sobs when she saw and heard them all wishing her happy birthday. Fitz, in particular, seemed so – like _Fitz_. 

And then there was her wedding ring. Jemma stared at it for ages, uncertain if… Finally, she reached out to pick it up and slowly slid it onto her finger. It felt like it belonged there. She wondered if Fitz would see it and know what she meant by it.

**

Fitz’s expression was a mix of devastation and confusion, anger and betrayal. Jemma’s eyes filled with tears, and she let her gaze drop from his.

“I’m sorry; I can’t do this,” she managed to say. 

And then she hurried away, barely noticing Mack by the door as she escaped the room. To think: a science lab with Fitz was the one place she couldn’t stand to be.

**

Jemma couldn’t stop shaking. Or crying, for that matter. She wiped at her eyes, angry at her lack of control. It wasn’t like Mack had told her something she didn’t know. She had figured out the truth long before he was even around, in fact. But it had just been one blow after another that day – Fitz confronting her when she had just been trying to – and then later, seeing him laugh and talk comfortably and solve problems with someone else, someone who wasn’t her. And now this.

But she had honestly been so grateful. She had left because she wanted Fitz to get better, and he apparently had. She really was the reason he hadn’t been improving. She had made the right choice. But she had been so worried about him being alone too, and so to find out he wasn’t – to find out he had made a friend who cared so much about him – gave her some comfort. She just wanted Mack to know that he was appreciated. 

She didn’t want Fitz back to how he had been, no matter what Mack accused her of. She just wanted him to be well. To be strong and happy. 

It killed her that that meant he needed to be as far away from her as possible.

**

Fitz had insomnia.

He’d like to believe it was because of caffeine, or blue light exposure, or the stress of his job, or something. He’d like to believe that. Truth was it was because he couldn’t stop thinking about Jemma. She was back. She was safe. 

She was gorgeous. God, somehow even more beautiful and sexier than before. He had hoped his imaginary friend – the Jemma who had been talking to him all these months – had been an embellishment. If anything, he hadn’t done her justice. 

But even more distressing than having the real her in front of him was knowing he’d never really have her again. If the whole abandoning him thing hadn’t revealed her total lack of attachment to him, then her inability to speak to him now would. She’d tried, certainly, bringing him tea and seeming all apologetic, wanting to work together again, pretending she even needed his expertise. But as soon as they’d tried to talk…it all had gone to hell, and she’d run out again. 

Fitz squeezed his eyes shut and lifted his hands to scrub his face quickly. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t. 

_“Things were always better when we didn’t talk, anyway. We never needed words to connect, did we?”_

Fitz turned to look even though he knew – he _knew_ , dammit – that it was all in his head. There was no one there. There hadn’t been anyone in his bed for ages, no matter what his brain liked to pretend.

He had somewhat hoped that he wouldn’t torment himself like this now that she was back to torment him for real.

“Please go away,” he whispered.

She tsk-tsked and shrugged, coming dangerously close to revealing what appeared to be a naked breast underneath the sheets loosely draped over her. _“You said you missed me, her, but you just keep trying to drive us away.”_

“Because I – she – it’s hard.”

 _“Mmm, I like it that way,”_ she replied with a saucy little chuckle that still felt more sarcastic than seductive. 

“Just – bugger off.”

 _“Fitz? You’ve been wanting me here all these weeks, because you needed me. But we’ve only ever talked. Why do you think that is? Why did you never imagine…you know?”_

“It seemed wrong to – think of her that way. It’d be – it’d be putting my…it wouldn’t be f-fair. To her.”

_“Regardless of whatever you think my reasons or feelings are, you had actual experience to contradict that. After all, I was the one who suggested the whole thing to begin with.”_

“As stress relief. As…friends.”

_“And you don’t need stress relief now? You don’t need a friend?”_

Fitz closed his eyes, hating himself for trying to find some way to justify it. Especially after how strained their real interactions had been. He couldn’t begin to imagine how something like this would affect his ability to speak or look at her. Besides…

“It might not even work. I don’t know…I haven’t…” He sighed loudly, then held up his hand as if he actually was gesturing at someone in the room. He knew – he _knew_ – he was alone. He wasn’t that far gone. “And then there’s this,” he concluded with a loud sigh. 

She leaned close enough so that, if she were real, her breath would fluff up his hair and her lips would brush against his ear. _“Only one way to find out.”_

“God damn it,” Fitz muttered. 

And then he moved. He tossed aside the blanket and pushed his pants down to his knees. There wasn’t much more than a half-hearted firmness to his cock at the moment, and Fitz still wasn’t sure any of his bits were functional. The fear that they weren’t had stopped him from even considering doing anything like this – in part because he knew it would be the very, very last thing he had to offer Jemma and if it were gone too…

Not that she wanted it. She’d made that clear. He was fine for – but as soon as he’d told her how he – he didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about _her_. 

As if to prove the point, he purposely turned his head away from the side of the bed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see – no, he couldn’t. He knew – he _knew_ – she wasn’t there. 

He reached out, fumbling with the bottle of lotion on the bedside table until there was a dollop in his good hand, and then he curled up slightly. He placed his other palm over his eyes, trying to ignore how it shook against his skin. And then he touched himself. He blew out a rather surprised breath at how cold the lotion was yet how good it all felt. And then he began to stroke, slow at first, and then faster and faster as his cock stiffened. 

Soon, his breath was being forced out of him in sharp puffs, and he dropped his hand away from his face to grasp at the pillow beneath him. His hips were thrusting forward, meeting the movement of his hand and causing the bed to squeak. He still kept his eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to look around, not wanting to acknowledge – 

_“I always loved how it felt inside me.”_

Fitz’s eyes flew open. She was kneeling now, her arms resting on the edge of his bed as she stared hungrily at his cock just in front of her. She wasn’t naked now; the bra she wore was torn straight from his memory and he wanted – he needed – 

“Stand up,” he choked out. 

She looked up at him, a knowing smile on her face as she slowly rose to her feet. Fitz turned to his back, keeping his eyes on her the entire time, even as he made space for her on the bed.

Not that she needed the space. He knew – he _knew_ – it wasn’t really her. But that didn’t stop him from picturing her as she sat on the foot of the bed and stretched out towards his face. He had a perfect view, starting from the heels he remembered so well and up her legs to the garter belt and knickers. 

_“Do you remember that night, Fitz?”_ she damn near purred. _“That night when just giving me pleasure was enough to satisfy you? That night when you tasted me for the first time?”_

“Fuck,” Fitz bit out, his hand moving even faster. “Yes, I – I remember.”

She leaned back, propping her weight on her hands as she slowly bent one leg at the knee. Her foot eventually stopped once she’d revealed her crotch to him. It was hard to tell with the color of the fabric, but it seemed darker from wetness. She only confirmed that when she slipped her hand down and pressed two fingers against her crotch. 

_“So wet,”_ she breathed out. _“Just like you always made me. Even that very first time, when we couldn’t even wait a few days. Just a stroke or two of my fingers and I could come as hard now as I did then, with your eyes on me.”_

Fitz wheezed, torn between surprise and resentment that his brain could recall every single moment he spent with Jemma in bed when it stayed so frustratingly closed off to him with every other piece of information he tried to recall and use. 

_“Come for me, Fitz.”_

He did, seeing stars. He was stunned, motionless for several minutes. And then he propped his head up and looked at his lower body.

“Guess it works,” he muttered while vowing to himself to never let on what – or who – he had pictured to run that particular experiment. 

There was no response, and Fitz looked up. She was gone. 

He hoped it was for good, and that meant he really was getting better. He feared it was for good, and that meant he’d lost every version of her.

**

Jemma waited anxiously for the plane doors to open. All she knew was that things had gone wrong and they’d requested a medical team to be ready. That news would have been bad enough for any mission. The fact that it just happened to be Fitz’s first time back in the field…God, what if it were him? What if he had been –

The doors lowered and there he was. She still held her breath though, not sure if – oh God. Blood. Jemma hurried forward, hands reaching out.

“Fitz? What happened? Where are you – ”

“It’s not me,” he said, flinching away from her in a way that might have hurt her feelings if she wasn’t quite so scared and confused. 

“What? But – ”

“It’s Trip,” he said, even as Coulson called out her name.

Jemma turned away reluctantly, not quite believing Fitz was well. But she was needed elsewhere, and she did her best to focus as she accompanied Coulson and Trip into the medical bay. Trip walked slowly, cringing with each step and leaning heavily on Coulson, but at least he was conscious and lucid. 

“Sit down,” Jemma ordered as soon as they reached an exam station.

She found scissors and cut his shirt off to reveal the wound. Jemma worked quickly, even more so once Coulson left them to take care of other business. They had patched things up pretty well in the field, and so there was little she needed to do. As she secured the fresh bandage, she made eye contact with Trip and smiled.

“You’ll be fine.”

“That’s a re – relief.”

The response hadn’t come from Trip, and Jemma turned in surprise to see Fitz leaning casually against the door. He was still in his tac uniform, the blood splatters still alarming. His hair was disheveled and he looked tired and Jemma just wanted to – 

“Hey man,” Trip greeted him with a smile. “How’re you?”

“Think that’s my question,” Fitz replied. 

“You should have seen him,” Trip told Jemma. “Regular James Bond out there today.”

Fitz scoffed, but Jemma desperately wanted to hear more. Only as a matter of concern, of course; she wanted to make sure he really had been ready to go back out. It had nothing to do with the way it made her breath turn uneven or her heart start to beat faster. It had nothing to do with her feeling sexual arousal for the first time since – since the pod.

“And,” Trip continued, laughing, “I nearly lost it when you tricked Coulson. ‘Oh, that’s with my bad hand. With both, I can do it no problem.’ Cocky little shit.”

Fitz chuckled, and Jemma closed her eyes, breathing out slowly. 

“Well, you’re all set!” she declared, far too cheerfully to be natural. “Excuse me!”

She hurried out of the room, stripping off her gloves and dropping them into the bin as she tried to squeeze past Fitz without looking at him. She could feel both men staring at her in confusion, she could feel the warmth of Fitz’s body as he turned to give her room. But she pretended not to notice, far too focused on getting out of there before she did something entirely embarrassing. 

Jemma headed straight towards the loo, the closest place with any privacy she could think of. She washed her hands quickly, then splashed some water on her face. Gripping the edges of the sink, she stared at herself in the mirror. She looked beyond frazzled. 

“Pull yourself together,” she muttered, almost wanting to laugh at how she was responding. She knew it was something of a kink of hers, Fitz’s ego combined with the way he unexpectedly filled out the black uniforms. But it didn’t seem right, after everything, that she should be – 

Besides, she had started to believe that she had lost the ability to – everything had seemed so dull and numb and bleak for ages. Tears were the only physical response to any emotion that she could manage. In a way, she was relieved to realize that all of her bits still actually worked. But it still didn’t seem fair to Fitz that she should be thinking about this when he was so upset with her. When she didn’t know how she _felt_ about him, if she was just too afraid to admit there was something there besides friendship and lust. When everything was so uncertain and painful between them. 

Jemma swallowed and looked at herself one more time. She took a deep breath and pushed away, heading back to the door. Yet she paused again when she reached it, one hand lightly wrapped around the doorknob. Jemma rested her forehead against the door, then after a few moments of crazed half-thoughts, deliberately tilted her hips to press her lower body against the unyielding surface as well. She gasped at the pressure. 

Moving her hand up, she flipped the deadbolt to lock it, and then she turned quickly to lean back against the door as she unzipped. She slid her fingers below her knickers, closing her eyes when she made contact with her clit. Perhaps – perhaps if she didn’t let herself think about Fitz during this, it would be OK.

That plan lasted all of two seconds, and then she was imagining it was Fitz’s chest she was leaning back against, it was his fingers stroking her. She could even almost hear his voice. 

_With my bad hand, I could probably get you off_ , he might growl in her ear. _With both, I can definitely do it._


	18. Chapter 18

“So,” Bobbi asked, leadingly, “how long have you been in love with him?”

Jemma scoffed, hoping her dismissal hid her embarrassment and confusion. “In love? With Fitz? No. I mean, it wasn’t like that.”

Her voice was entirely too high-pitched to be credible. She walked across the room, pretending to prepare for the mission so she didn’t have to look at her. 

“It was just a friendly arrangement,” she continued when Bobbi remained silent. “I – I never dreamed…”

“OK,” Bobbi interrupted, sounding more than a little amused. “I’m just gonna stop you right there. If this were an interrogation, you’d have given me about nine visual cues to put you away. Maybe ten.”

Jemma sighed, her shoulders dropping as she stared ahead. 

“Things were fine,” Jemma argued, not quite believing it herself. “Maybe not perfect, but we were happy. We’d made a life that was working fine for both of us.”

“So, what happened?”

She turned to face Bobbi. “We were in the bottom of the ocean in a storage pod, left for dead, and Fitz…he said something that caught me completely off-guard.” 

With a small smile, Bobbi responded, “Ah, those three little words.”

“Yes! Well…no. Not exactly,” Jemma replied, sitting slowly on the stool beside her. “I – I had no time to process what he was saying or how I felt about it. And then, he was forcing the oxygen on me, even though we had a rule, we had made a _promise_ to each other – and – and then, he’s – he’s laying there, in the hospital bed. He was so pale.” 

Jemma trailed off, feeling as if she were back there in that room, not knowing whether Fitz would ever wake up or how he might be different if he did. She hadn’t had any time then, either, to process and think about what she felt. Everything since that moment had been non-stop, never slowing down enough for her to just – or perhaps, that was her excuse for running away and not attempting any analysis of her own feelings or assigning any labels to them. 

“How long was Fitz in the coma?” Bobbi asked kindly, bringing Jemma back to the present.

“Nine of the longest days of my life. When it finally broke, he couldn’t speak. He – he just stared at me, confused. All I wanted to do was help him.” Jemma sighed, then added, “All I wanted was my best friend back.”

“Your best friend?” Bobbi asked, somewhat skeptical. “Or your husband?”

Jemma looked up, but she didn’t answer. She mostly just wondered if it had to be an _or_. And if it was worth risking everything, worth risking her heart and his again, to find out.

**

“Okay,” Mack said, slicing through the tension. “I'm gonna go check on the landing gear.”

Jemma felt her heart start to race at the terrifying realization she would soon be alone with Fitz, even as he stuttered through a protest. Mack merely replied that the awkward silence was killing him.

He wasn’t the only one. 

Mack walked out then, and Fitz seemed for a second like he was going to follow him. Jemma felt frozen, and then she rushed to speak. 

“Fitz.”

He stared at his feet rather than at her. Jemma struggled for something to say, not knowing what she possibly _could_ say to make him understand. She didn’t know how to put her feelings into words, perhaps because she still didn’t quite know what her feelings were. All she knew was she couldn’t bear to watch him walk away. She couldn’t bear this _silence_ between them anymore. 

She knew Fitz felt as confused as she did, and the way his brow furrowed and his mouth opened pointlessly made that obvious. In an impulsive, likely ill-advised move, Jemma finally chose not to say anything. Stepping close enough to wrap one hand around the back of his neck, she pulled him down into a kiss. 

Fitz stumbled, then reacted quickly. His hands went to her hips, tugging her closer to him. He deepened the kiss, making her moan and wrap her arms around him fully. Their breathing sounded loud, but all Jemma could think was that she hoped Mack did not find a reason to come back. 

She pressed herself closer, breaking the kiss to move her lips to his jaw. She sucked just below his ear, scraped her teeth along the sensitive skin there, and sighed. “Oh, Fitz.”

It took her a moment to realize he had stopped responding. He stood still, except for the slight tremor of his hand against her hip. And then instead of pulling her closer, he was pushing her away. Jemma protested, clinging to him and trying to get him to kiss her again. 

“Stop,” he muttered, his voice breaking. “Stop, just – Dalek.”

Jemma immediately let go, stepping back with a surprised gasp just shy of a sob.

**

_Jemma stared at the ceiling, stunned and occasionally giggling. There was a pen digging into her back, and she was pretty sure Fitz was going to have to redraw the plans he’d been working on that were now crumpled on the floor beneath his feet, but she was finding it hard to care. In the 48 hours since they’d arrived home from work and finally, fully crossed the boundary, they’d made a point to, well, christen every room in the flat, several times in some cases. The office had been last, after a laughable attempt to get some work done that weekend. Their good intentions lasted maybe a half-hour at most, and then Jemma had realized she was staring at him far more than the equations in front of her. She had stood, walked around to his desk, and fixed him with a sultry look before leaning past him and swiping everything off his desk._

 _She giggled again, remembering his shock that quickly turned to arousal when she observed how she’d always wanted to do something like that. It only took him a moment to recover and then he was leaning her back against the surface and kissing her passionately._

_Jemma sighed, smiling broadly as she ran her hands through his hair. He was dead weight on top of her, grounding her with a comforting sort of pressure. His cock was still inside of her, and while she knew he’d have to withdraw soon, she enjoyed the feeling while it lasted. Especially when his body began to shake with suppressed laughter._

_“Hmm?” Jemma asked._

_“Thought of a safe word,” he mumbled in reply, weakly lifting one hand and pointing._

_Jemma turned her head to see, her brow furrowing when she spotted the TARDIS pencil sharpener resting precariously at the edge of the desk._

_“I don’t…?”_

_“Dalek,” Fitz said, laughing even louder._

_Jemma shook her head, trying to clear out the confused cobwebs the orgasm had given her._

_“Because,” Fitz continued, breathless and difficult to understand,_ “sex-terminate.”

_It took a moment, and then Jemma burst into laughter. Fitz pushed himself up, bracing his hands on either side of her, and made eye contact. His impish, overly pleased expression just set her off more. Finally, she calmed enough to speak. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she shifted slightly._

_“Good. We have a safe word, so now we can really start having some fun.”_

_Fitz raised an eyebrow._

_“I have so much kinky shit planned for you, Leopold Fitz,” she teased._

_He groaned and leaned down to kiss her again, one of his hands sliding down to hook under her arse and pull her up towards him. He slipped slightly on the papers beneath his feet, but caught himself. Jemma wrapped her limbs around him, holding him tightly as she relished the ways he always proved to be an over-achiever._

**

Jemma couldn’t help but remember how for days they’d catch each other’s eye and mouth _sex-terminate_ just to make the other one laugh. But neither one of them, no matter what they’d experimented with, had ever used the safe word for real. Until now.

She hadn’t expected the level of guilt that came along with it. As surprised and hurt as she was, she had never wanted to make Fitz feel – 

Jemma wiped at her tears, and then forced herself to look at him. He didn’t meet her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, wondering if she was apologizing for kissing him or for…everything.

Before she even got the words out, he was turning farther away from her. 

“Let me just - I've been thinking, and…I'm going to leave the lab so you can be the one who runs the science division.”

“You're quitting?” The idea was so preposterous, so unbearable, that she could barely say it aloud. 

“No. I'm – I'm – I'm going to the garage, on the bus with Mack.” he told her, voice strangely emotionless. “And – I don’t know if it’s neck – necess – if we need to, with our files wiped, but…”

He trailed off, and Jemma stared, confused. Until it hit her what he was trying to say. 

“You want to divorce,” she said, unable to hide her pain.

He nodded jerkily and then, after a moment, left the room without a backward glance. As soon as he was gone, Jemma dropped to the ground, boneless and sick to her stomach. She was too heartbroken to cry.

**

That they were able to work together so well, as they tried to get the DWARFS to work and then later tried to figure out what had happened with Mack, didn’t particularly surprise her. She and Fitz had always been a good team, even before they had been friends. She kind of wanted to laugh, as she remembered how she thought he had hated her back in their early days at the Academy. She knew what it felt like now to have him hate her. There was no comparison.

What did surprise her is that it didn’t really hurt as much as she thought it should. She knew now that it had been the confusion, the uncertainty, that had been causing them so many problems. But now that he had said what he needed to, now that he had ended them for good, they could both move on. Jemma knew her feelings, whatever they might be, didn’t matter. There was no point in even trying to figure them out anymore. He was done with her. And she was – honestly – fine with that. Above all else, he was her best friend. If he needed it to be this way, then – well, she could live with that, after everything. She needed him to be happy and healthy more than she needed him in her life. Hadn’t that been one of the reasons that got them in this position in the first place? 

As long as she could just _see_ him sometimes, she figured she’d be OK. 

Which is why she was so nervous now, separate from him. God, he was so predictable sometimes. Declaring that he was fine and could do the job, making her stay with Trip while he went off on his own, as if he had something to prove. Ugh, she just wanted to smack him.

That feeling only grew the longer they waited for him to return. The charges were set to blow any – Jemma sighed in relief when someone pulled on the rope and she heard him shout up to them. Jemma dropped to her knees as he got closer to the opening, reaching out to pull him up the rest of the way. She fought the urge to run her hands over him to check for injuries. 

But after that, things happened far too quickly, and Jemma was still somewhat in shock with the way Trip had jumped back down through the hole. The situation only worsened when the ground started shaking and debris started falling from the walls and ceiling. Jemma threw her arms out for balance, looking around for some place to take shelter. 

Suddenly, she felt Fitz grab her hand and pull her closer to him. They both dropped to the ground, hugging each other tightly as the whole cavern seemed to fall around them. Jemma closed her eyes, taking what comfort from his embrace she could, and waited for it all to end, one way or another. Almost miraculously, they got through unscathed, and as the tremors stopped, Jemma slowly backed away from Fitz.

He met her gaze and they stared at each other for what felt like ages. Fitz lifted one shaky hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, and then kept his fingers there, pressing softly against her face. Jemma’s mouth opened slightly as she sought for some response. Fitz inhaled, starting to lean closer to her, his eyelids falling shut. Jemma felt as if her heart was stopping or perhaps was going to burst from racing so fast. Fitz’s hand slid farther back, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer. Jemma let out a small squeak of confused, desperate desire, and then – 

“FitzSimmons?” Coulson’s voice crackled over the comms unit, even as the sound of footsteps entering the room preceded May and Bobbi’s arrival. 

They both backed away quickly, not making eye contact as they jumped to respond to the latest crisis.


	19. Chapter 19

He probably should have been paying more attention. If he had been, he would have picked up the tablet before Jemma could. 

“Extra macromolecules just like in Raina’s blood – but different ones. Whose DNA is this?”

Fitz searched for a response. He needed, wanted to protect Skye, but – surely Jemma would change her attitude if she only knew – and she could help and – there were so many reasons he could come up with, but the only one that mattered was that he couldn’t lie to her.

“Look, Jemma – ”

Just then, the base started shaking. He hesitated just long enough to give Jemma an apologetic look, and then he ran out of the room.

**

Strangers bustled all around them. Part of Fitz wanted to tell them off, yell at them for touching all of the equipment. There was – they had a _system_. But mostly, he was just tired and sad. He didn’t know why this kept happening to them, to him. His father, Ward, now Mack and Bobbi. Jemma. People he thought he could trust turning around and hurting him.

Fitz sighed. He glanced over at Jemma sitting next to him, but looked quickly away when he realized she was looking back. Moments later, her hand snuck over to cover his. She squeezed softly, and Fitz could only stare for a few seconds. And then he moved. Bringing his hand up, he wrapped it around hers. 

He was so confused about everything. About this so-called Real S.H.I.E.L.D. About whatever was going on with Skye. But most importantly about Jemma. They hadn’t talked about their relationship since – well, since he’d told her wanted a divorce. In many ways, things between them actually seemed less tense now. He didn’t know if that was because they were…healing, or if it was because the uncertainty was gone, or if it was because everything else around them was so much tenser. 

Maybe she was just waiting for things to calm down before starting the proceedings. 

But to be honest, when he glanced at her again and their eyes held, he had to admit that was probably not the case. He was pretty sure, in fact, that she was as glad as he was that they were together during this whole mess. 

He searched his brain for something to say, more than a little flustered by the look on her face and the feel of her hand. He opened his mouth and inhaled and then – Weaver interrupted them.

**

Jemma didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. On one hand, she was on the same page as Fitz for the first time in months. They were working together as well as they ever had. On the other hand, their excellent subterfuge was likely only believed because they were pretending to be at odds. Which certainly said something about their relationship of late.

Most importantly, the success of their ruse meant that Fitz would be leaving for God only knew how long. They’d both be in danger, and they’d be apart from each other, at a time when they really probably would benefit from being able to talk. When she desperately wanted to talk to him.

Perhaps that’s what gave her the courage in the end. She had snuck off to the kitchen, making a sandwich to justify why she needed to get into his belongings later. Then she stared at the wrapper for far too long, considering the time pressure. 

Then she picked up a pen and began to write. She hoped the underlying meaning of her message was obvious.

**

Jemma should have been working, preparing, but she was distracted. Fitz was only a few feet away from her, back in the base after what felt like ages. That wasn’t the only thing, though. She couldn’t stop staring at Agent 33. Kara.

“I feel sorry for her,” she finally said, glancing at Fitz to gauge his response.

He spun in his chair, looking over at the other agent appraisingly. “Yeah, well,” he finally said. “You should have seen her back on the plane with Ward.” Fitz made eye contact again, and Jemma tilted her head curiously. “Seems the two of them are _in love_ with each other.”

His tone of voice made it clear what he thought of that, and Jemma had to agree. She scoffed. 

“She had her memories wiped by a torture machine and then was brainwashed by a sadist who refuses to take responsibility for his own actions. Whatever that is, it’s not love.”

Fitz stared at her a moment. “No,” he finally agreed, and something about the look in his eyes made Jemma feel exposed. “Of course not. Who could ever mistake that?”

She gave him an awkward smile, needlessly straightening her hair as she turned away. He got her attention again, however, almost immediately.

“Hey, thank you for packing the sandwich before I left.” Jemma met his eyes, afraid but desperate to see any secret meaning behind his words. Had he figured out what she’d been trying to say? “It was really delicious,” he added, his voice soft.

Despite her nerves, Jemma’s smile was sincere. “You’re quite welcome,” she practically purred. Inwardly, she cringed. She had to – “But I just don’t understand why Coulson would take Ward on a mission!” she blurted. Just because it was a frantic change of subject didn’t mean it was a lie. “It’s simply too dangerous.”

“Yeah,” Fitz replied with a scoff. He rolled his chair with a push of his feet, ending up closer to her. “For _Ward_ , maybe.”

Jemma stared at him curiously, a familiar flustered feeling starting low in her gut.

“I attacked him back on the Quinjet,” Fitz informed her, peacocking slightly. If she’d had any objectivity, she’d roll her eyes at him. Really, however, all she wanted to do was see if that chair would hold both their weights. Objectivity was overrated. “Hunter had to pull me off him, so…”

“Really?” Jemma asked. She was painfully aware of how breathless she sounded. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Fitz confirmed, thankfully not quite as observant as she’d hoped – feared! Feared. “Lucky for him.”

Jemma forced herself to swallow. 

“You know what I should have done is toss him from the plane,” Fitz added. 

She gripped the edge of the table, turning away slightly. She stared at the items in front of her for a long moment, eyes wild and unfocused. Then she realized what she was looking at, and gave herself a little shake to focus. There were far more important things to worry about than her…conditioned response. 

“Perhaps there’s a better way still,” she observed, opening the case and turning it so Fitz could see inside. 

“Splinter bombs?” 

“Simply find Ward alone, stick one of these on, and poof! No more Ward.” Her smile was quite wicked.

“Yeah, that probably would be quite a fitting way for…um…wait. You’re serious?”

Fitz was staring at her, a slightly horrified, slightly confused expression on his face. Let him keep the moral high ground, Jemma thought to herself. It was one of the reasons she lo – it was – anyway. Coulson could risk it. Fitz could be the better person. But Jemma hadn’t forgotten what he’d done to all of them. What he’d done to Fitz. 

“Ward is a threat to every agent working in S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she reminded him, reinforcing her own conviction. “Isn’t it our responsibility to at least arm ourselves against him?”

Ward would never get the drop on _her_ again.

**

Maybe it was her imagination, but she could feel the _pieces_ of Bakshi on her clothes, in her hair, coating her skin and dissolving on her tongue. She could still see the barrel of Ward’s gun just in front of her. She could hear his words rattling around in her brain over and over and over.

 _I’m disappointed in you, Jemma._

She got Mike and Lincoln settled in the infirmary and then left. She needed to find Fitz. When they’d split up, she’d thought they’d never see each other again. They almost didn’t, honestly. But they couldn’t talk on the trip back, not really. Even if she hadn’t been busy with the wounded, it still wouldn’t have been ideal. 

She found him in the lab, putting equipment away. Walking up to the table, she stopped mere inches from him. It took him a moment to notice her, but as soon as he did, he saw through her mask easily.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He stepped closer in his concern, and it took whatever was left of Jemma’s strength not to back away. 

She struggled for a response, unable to find the words. Not sure if she should risk them, anyway. She wanted to tell him, but what would he think of her after?

_Look at what you’ve become. No wonder he doesn’t love you anymore._

“I – I – ”

“Jemma?” He reached out, cupping a hand under her elbow and pulling her closer.

“I – killed Bakshi.”

Fitz nodded, never breaking eye contact, like it didn’t even faze him. “I’m sure he – ”

“But I couldn’t kill Ward.”

Fitz hesitated. She watched him closely, trying to gauge his reaction. It was impossible, considering she couldn’t even sort out her own feelings.

“I’m glad,” he finally said. “I couldn’t either. It means we’re better than him.”

Jemma shook her head. Only Fitz – only Fitz. “It means whatever terrible thing he does next is on me. I failed. Again.”

Fitz pressed his lips together and breathed out harshly through his nose. Before he could reply, Jemma blurted out her next question. She had to know.

“You hate me now, don’t you?”

His brow furrowed and his mouth dropped open. “I could never hate you,” he confessed, sounding almost angry about it. “Sometimes, I wish I could.”

“But I – ”

“You’ve done nothing wrong. And nothing he does will be your fault.”

Jemma hung her head, fighting tears. Sometimes, she wished he could hate her too.

**

When she left Bobbi and Hunter, she had done so almost mindlessly. She’d avoided running into things out of sheer luck, she was so stuck inside her own head. But by the time she’d made it down two halls, she had picked up her pace as she walked with determination. He was probably in the locker room, and it was imperative she found him before he left. She couldn’t waste one more minute.

Jemma shook her head. She was supposed to be a genius. How had she ever thought that what she felt for him was only friendship? That she wanted his touch for _stress relief?_ That she never wanted anything more than that? That she was willing to let him go without a fight? 

Seeing Hunter at Bobbi’s bedside had reminded her far too strongly of those horrible, horrible days after the Pod. How could she see so clearly that what they had was love, but she hadn’t been able to recognize it in herself? And the worst part was she knew that was not even when her denial had begun. She’d loved him all along. She probably loved him years before they even – 

There he was. His back to her, he was bending over the bench as he packed his gear. 

Jemma searched for the right words. And then she shook her head. That was part of the problem. Waiting for the right words that never came when they didn’t even _need_ to. She just had to say _something_. 

“You’ll – you’ll be careful?”

He glanced at her, then continued packing. “I won’t be careful; I’ll get the job done.”

Jemma closed her eyes and exhaled. Now wasn’t the time for his need to play the hero or his peevishness when he thought she was suggesting he couldn’t do it. “Well…watch your back. Because I just saw Hunter with Bobbi and it made me realize that…we never really spoke about…what you said to me at the bottom of the ocean.”

There. She’d started the conversation. Now she could only hope he – 

He stared at her incredulously. “Now? You want to talk about this now?”

“We never talk,” Jemma continued urgently, feeling the words spill out of her after having been blocked up for so long. The mission could wait, as far as she was concerned. “Not about what you said in the ocean, not when you said you wanted a divorce, and never before any of that either. We never talked about anything. Aren’t you tired of it?”

He sighed, looking away. “There’s nothing to discuss, Jemma.”

“I think there is. I think we have a lot to say to each other, and I think it’s about time we said it. So…go do your mission and then come home to me and let’s _talk_.”

Fitz stared at her, speechless and wide-eyed. He moved a step closer, his eyes darting to her lips before meeting hers again. Time seemed to stand still, and Jemma felt as if – 

“Agent Fitz, we’re on the move.”

She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw something at Coulson. She wanted to grab Fitz as he started to follow him, to pull him back to her and – she spun on her heel, turning away from the door. Letting out a sharp breath, she blinked rapidly against her tears.

**

He was asking her out. It took her an embarrassingly long time to realize it, which sadly shouldn’t come as much of a surprise considering how long it took her to realize everything else about him. But he was asking her out. Jemma smiled, somewhat bashfully, nodding her head and looking at him with what she considered her bedroom eyes.

They were going to go on a date. And it wasn’t even the last Friday of the month, she thought with an inappropriate urge to laugh. 

Fitz said some more stuff, and she nodded, not quite sure what she was agreeing to. He was being too adorable though, nervously picking at the door to the case, nearly falling over one time even as he stumbled over his words. 

Jemma licked her lips, then smiled one more time in goodbye as Fitz left the room. She could barely focus on her work now, already counting down the minutes until they – 

“Ugh, what idiot – ”

Jemma didn’t even have time to react when the doors were forced open and the liquefying rock flowed out at her, knocking her off her feet.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section skirts around a rating of M/E, so if you really, really, really cannot accept Jemma’s relationship with Will, then skip the section that begins “Jemma yawned…” and check out the notes below for a summary.

It took him seven attempts, but Fitz finally managed to knot his tie acceptably. He knew that it was unnecessary – Jemma wouldn’t care if he wore a tie and the restaurant he picked didn’t even seem fancy enough for one – but…well, he just wanted to make it clear how hard he tried. How much he wanted this to go well, how much it mattered to him. The last time they’d gone to dinner, she had made an effort that went completely unappreciated by him. He knew it must have hurt her, how grumpy he’d been. At the time, he couldn’t see past the end of his own nose, could only think about how he might spill on himself like a child if his hand failed him and about how he wished it was a real date but knew it wasn’t. 

He wanted so badly to make up for that time. Not to mention all the times they’d gone out before and he’d never – he just took it for granted. 

Fitz pulled on his jacket and then stared into the mirror. He supposed he looked OK. He just hoped she agreed. He glanced over at the picture hanging in the corner of the mirror, the selfie they had taken what felt like eons ago outside the Peruvian ruins. He had carried it with him everywhere, unable to take it down even when he couldn’t bear the thought of her. How far they’d come already since then…

He left his bunk, ready to take the next step, and walked two doors down to Jemma’s, knocking on the door when he arrived. There was no answer. 

“Jemma?” he called out. 

Still nothing. He waited for a moment, and then smiled to himself. Heading down the hall, he thought of all the ways he’d tease her for becoming so distracted by the monolith that she forgot about their dinner plans. 

Except she wasn’t in that room either.

Fitz licked his lips. Some tiny, unhelpful part of him began to wonder if he was getting stood up. But he quickly dismissed that idea. _She_ was the one who wanted to talk, after all. And there was no way he had misinterpreted the look she gave him when he asked her to dinner. She knew what he was asking, and she knew what she was agreeing to. 

The next idea that occurred to him was that she was with Skye. Wasn’t it something girls did – help each other get ready for dates? He was sure he’d seen that in movies. Rather than wander the halls looking for them, he stepped over to the nearest panel and accessed the Lanyard program. He typed in Skye’s name, then rolled his eyes at himself as he hit the backspace multiple times. He then searched for Jemma. 

_Agent cannot be located._

Fitz squinted at the screen in confusion. He double-checked his typing. And then he tapped a command into the comms program. 

“Fitz to Skye.”

A moment later, she responded, “This is _Daisy_.”

“Have you seen Jemma?” he asked, too distracted to apologize for forgetting.

“Not in a while.”

Fitz pressed his lips together, feeling increasingly worried. He switched over to the intercom. 

“Agent Simmons, report.”

He waited several excruciating seconds, then repeated himself. Still nothing.

Finally, he accessed the security tapes, figuring he could track her movements since he last saw her. He entered the approximate time he left the room earlier, then hit play. After only a few moments of footage, he backed away from the screen in shock, letting out a visceral sound of fear. He was motionless, speechless, completely incapable of thought. 

And then he fell forward, slamming his whole palm against the alarm button and filling the base with wailing sirens.

**

Eventually, Jemma admitted she needed to go in search of water. It was a hard decision, going against her S.H.I.E.L.D. training, her instinct, and her vague memories of her brief stint in Girl Guides telling her to stay put when lost or separated. But the need for water was stronger, so she’d compromise and leave some kind of trail for Fitz and the others to follow as soon as they figured out how to come after her.

The problem was how to leave clear messages. She started by building an arrow on the ground out of rocks. She wondered if she should leave something more personalized as well. She could only think of one thing to leave behind – something identifiably from her yet something that wouldn’t be needed for any sort of survival function later. 

She breathed deeply, fighting tears. Ignoring the memories of Fitz’s face when he gave her the necklace on her birthday, of the way it felt against her naked skin when they made love that night and every other time since – because obviously that was what it had been, making love – she unhooked the clasp and attached the jewelry to the rocks. And then she took a deep breath and started walking, hoping her arbitrarily selected direction was the right one.

After several hundred yards of what she hoped was a straight line, she piled up more rocks in an attempt at an inuksuk, and then she kept going. To pass the time and try to drown out some of her worries, she talked aloud to herself, imagining the date that she and Fitz would go on as soon as she got home.

**

Fitz sighed, burrowing his face into his arms deeper in an attempt to fall back asleep. And then he felt fingers brush against the back of his neck briefly before they moved to rest on his shoulder. He smiled, wondering who would win this battle of wills – her trying to wake him up or him trying to drag her back to bed.

“Fitz?” His name was accompanied by a shake of his shoulders. 

Fitz sat bolt upright, confused and a little weirded out as his brain made sense of what was really happening. Then he lifted a hand to his mouth, wiping away the drool. The monitors beeped around him, and he had accidentally crumpled some relatively important papers beneath his head when he passed out sometime in the night.

He blinked a couple times at Bobbi, then sniffed. “What time is it?”

“Seven.”

“Damn it,” he muttered, standing quickly and patting his pockets before seeing his phone on the desk. 

“You should go get some real sleep, or at least take a shower,” Bobbi suggested. 

Fitz shook his head, half-ignoring her as he double-checked the boarding time on the ticket he’d downloaded a few hours ago. “I have to go,” he muttered. If he left now…

“Go? Go where?”

“I have a lead,” he said, turning and walking away. Bobbi followed him. “On a – a scroll. I don’t have time to explain right now.” 

“Where are you going? Do you want me to come?”

“No, I need you here to cover for me with Coulson.”

“Fitz.”

“Just – please,” he said, taking the time to turn and look pleadingly at her. He wasn’t above begging. “Please?”

Bobbi sighed. “Be careful. And I hope it pans out.”

 _Me too_ , Fitz thought to himself as he turned away again and hurried toward the door.

**

Jemma breathed out slowly, then inhaled as she pulled herself up one more time, grimacing. She was up to 40 pull-ups in one go. The man, whoever he was, still avoided her much of the time, talking more to himself than to her. But she was just waiting for her moment. She had made it through an alien virus and an unplanned trip to the bottom of the ocean and months undercover in Hydra and hunger, thirst, exposure, and loneliness on a barren planet. _She had eaten the tentacles of a sentient alien plant just to survive_. She was getting home to Fitz, and some weirdo kidnapper who improbably ended up in this wasteland with her wasn’t going to stop her.

**

The first time he thought he lost her, when she tumbled off the plane into the clear blue sky, Fitz had screamed and screamed and then gone numb until he knew she was OK again. When she came back to him, they had fucked desperately. He had felt like he could never get close enough to her, like he’d never be willing to let her go again. It was one of the few times he had admitted to himself he was in love with her.

The second time he thought he lost her, when she had left him all alone, Fitz tried to pretend he didn’t care. His pain was too strong, and he self-destructed. He had told her he loved her, though not in so many words, and she abandoned him, the threat of Hydra somehow less scary than the offer of his heart. Or so he had told himself resentfully. 

This third time that he lost her was worst of all. Because he loved her and _she loved him_. He knew it, even though they hadn’t been able to say it. Even though she had been ripped away from him before they could finally be fully honest with each other. And Coulson – Coulson just wanted him to ignore that, to accept that she was never coming back. 

He stared with wild, unseeing eyes at the monolith in front of him. He could feel tears pooling, his nose tingling as sobs threatened, his pulse ratcheting up as his breath turn ragged. 

“Do something,” he whispered, not sure if he wanted it to spit her back out at him or take him too, bring him to wherever she was. He was absolutely willing to die if he got to be with her again.

It remained as dormant as it had been all these months. Something inside Fitz, maybe it was the last little bit of hope he clung to, broke. 

“ _Do something!_ ” he screamed, practically collapsing as he pounded at the unyielding rock.

**

When she had been at Hydra, she hadn’t taken her real mobile with her. Too dangerous. And so, she’d had no way to remember, no pictures to look at or videos to watch. In some ways, she had preferred that, as reluctant as she was to think about anyone (him) much at all. Now, as she swiped through each file in turn, she was somewhat surprised to see how many she had saved over the years. Documentation of birthdays and other holidays. Fitz and his mom at the Academy graduation ceremony. Fitz and her collapsed on the floor after moving into their flat. Fitz and her on the steps of the courthouse, holding their marriage license and pretending (not really pretending) to be ecstatic. Fitz and her dressed up for a night out. A badly-angled selfie of Fitz and her kissing. Fitz in bed, naked and hair tousled as he slept late one lazy weekend morning. Fitz, Fitz, Fitz. _It’s like your favorite word._

Jemma ran her finger softly over the phone’s lock screen – yet another picture of Fitz. She had recorded her last message and now it was time to lose this connection to him in a last-ditch attempt to get back to him for real. She’d lose the rest of the battery power on the phone, but gain enough energy to work the obsolete equipment. If it worked, it’d be worth it. 

It worked. 

But it wasn’t enough. Hope shattered inside Jemma at the same time the bottle struck the rock where the portal had just been. And she lost control completely when they made it back to the home base and she saw all the debris from hours of pointless work. She screamed, lifting and flipping the table to rid it of all its contents, and then she fell to the ground, sobbing.

Will’s arms came around her, and he spoke to her, trying to calm her. She stared at him, only half-seeing, half-listening in her despair. And then he kissed her. 

Jemma gasped, perhaps in surprise, perhaps in something else. And for a long, heady moment, she let him. She even lifted her hands to his face and kissed him back, wanting to forget, wanting to find some comfort. 

And then she pushed him away, holding him back with weak arms. “Please, don’t. Please.” 

She knew she was never going to see Fitz again. But she wasn’t ready to forget him yet. She was nowhere near ready to replace him.

**

After the flare had disappeared into the swirling pit, Fitz had been in something of a chaotic haze. It wasn’t even a conscious decision, really. He felt like a man possessed, like he was outside of his own body, watching as he clipped the cord to his belt.

They stopped him before, pulling him away from his only hope of finding or being with Jemma. He wouldn’t let it happen again. 

With no warning, he turned, running and jumping and – falling.

**

Jemma yawned as she ran her hands through her hair in some semblance of grooming. It had been a long night with little sleep. She told herself it was out of excitement at the sun they should see today, if her calculations were correct and of course they were. But her sleeplessness the night before probably also had something to do with the way she peered through the darkness to stare at Will.

“Come on, professor. Don’t want to miss it.”

“We’re not going to miss it,” she replied with a fond roll of her eyes. “I was the one who did the maths, remember?”

She stepped away from the helmet serving as a mirror and picked up her phone, now nothing more than a security blanket of sorts, and secured it inside her sweater-cum-shoulder-bag. She then grabbed her portion of their prepared picnic and wondered if she should also grab a blanket before deciding against it. 

It was time. In more ways than one, Jemma thought to herself, as she followed him out of the hatch. He wasn’t her first choice, but if she had to live out her life in perpetual dusk, she could have done worse. And she was pretty sure that wasn’t just the loneliness talking. Will was nice and attractive and interesting, in his own way. In other circumstances, she might have fallen for him, or she might never have looked twice at him. But she had to live with the circumstances she was in. 

She was never going to see Fitz again. That didn’t mean she couldn’t find some way to be happy, even in this desolate place.

In a way, it made her want to laugh. The first man she had committed to, she had pretended it was some kind of best-case scenario, making a life with someone she loved but didn’t _love_. The second man she planned to commit to, it was exactly that. Maybe someday she would grow to love him as much as she had always truly loved Fitz. 

It seemed like the perfect time to try. The sun would dawn on her new life. She would let him know she was ready to move on, ready to forge ahead with him. She didn’t even feel sad or like she was being unfaithful or like she had given up. She felt…hopeful. 

But Will should not have been as optimistic about the wine, as sweet of a gesture as it was. She spit it out, eyes stinging. After she had control of herself, however, she just smiled at Will. She didn’t want to wait until the sun rose. She wanted to tell him now. But words had never been her strong suit, especially not regarding this particular topic. 

She fell back on action, reaching out to hook her fingers around his. He glanced up at her, smiling. But it didn’t seem like he realized what she was trying to say. Maybe he had stopped hoping. Maybe he had stopped wanting it. Or maybe he’d just gotten better at denying himself. So Jemma made it even clearer.

She leaned forward and kissed him, not on his cheek or the corner of his lips, not friendly and chaste. She placed her mouth fully on his, pressing forward with passion and moving one hand to the back of his neck to hold him to her. Will’s tongue soon sought entry, and she parted her lips with a moan, letting him in. Soon, they pulled apart. He stared at her, questioning, and she refused to look away. Finding the answer he was looking for, Will surged forward again, catching her in a kiss that was much more heated than the one before. 

Before long, she found herself in his lap, rocking her hips back and forth, stimulating her clit through her jeans over his growing erection, and feeling herself become wetter and wetter. Will held her close, placing open-mouthed kisses all over her throat and chest before returning to her lips. Jemma reached down, blindly unbuttoning his trousers and freeing his cock, grasping it and thinking about what it would feel like inside her, impatient and eager yet more than a little apprehensive to find out. 

He tugged the neckline of her tank down, bending down to suck on her newly exposed nipple. Jemma squeezed her eyes shut against a sudden, painfully unwelcome memory of the way Fitz would lavish attention to her breasts. She grunted as Will unexpectedly moved, lifting her and then lowering her to her back on the ground. Jemma moaned, her head falling to the side, as he worked at her zip and then tugged her jeans and knickers down. 

She spread her legs wider, hissing at the sensation of the dusty breeze against her wet folds. Will reached down, pressing and rolling his fingers against her, teasing at her entrance. Jemma whimpered with need, scratching her nails along his back as she tried to let go of all hesitation, tried to give into nothing but this moment of pleasure and her future with Will. 

On the other side of her closed eyelids, she sensed a glowing brightness. It felt too soon for the sun, but she opened her eyes anyway, wanting to see it. 

It wasn’t the sun. 

She stared up in a confused haze, trying to process what she was seeing – a shooting star?? – even as Will shifted his weight and lowered fully onto her. No, she realized. It was a flare.

“Fitz,” Jemma breathed out. 

Will froze. “ _Will_ ,” he said, with some kind of emotion she didn’t understand and didn’t want to waste time trying to. She pushed him off her and sat up, pointing behind him at the falling flare. 

“It’s Fitz! He found a way; we’re going home!” she shouted. 

And then she jumped to her feet, absent-mindedly hiking her clothes up, buttoning and zipping her jeans faster than she’d ever had. She grabbed her belongings and began to run, trusting Will to catch up. She had no idea how much time they had, and she wasn’t about to lose this chance too.

**

Part of him didn’t believe that it was real – that they were back on earth and she was here in his arms, covered with shards of the monolith, exhausted and dirty but never more beautiful to him. If it were a dream, though, he never wanted to wake up.

“Fitz,” she said breathlessly, her eyes closing as she smiled. 

He lifted one hand to her face, brushing the hair away. He hugged her closer, never wanting to let go, and he turned to look up at the others with an almost manic smile. He focused on her again. Unable to stop himself, he bent down and kissed her. It only took a moment before he felt her weakly but unquestionably kiss him back. He smiled against her dry, chapped lips, and murmured her name. 

There was no response though. She had passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick summary for those who skipped: Jemma makes the conscious choice to begin a relationship with Will on the day of the sunrise as a kind of acceptance of her new life. She cares for him but doesn’t love him. They make out and come close to having sex (during which she tries to ignore thoughts of Fitz) but are interrupted when she sees the flare. 
> 
> More A/N: OK, real talk, folks: If your response to this chapter is in any way anti-Jemma, slut-shaming, or similarly misogynistic (internalized or otherwise), I literally do not want to hear it. (You are, of course, welcome to discuss your thoughts on the events, _respectfully_.) Yes, the FS relationship in this story is different from canon, but I don’t consider her actions in this “cheating” any more than I do her canon actions, that is to say, she’s not cheating at all. She fully and reasonably thinks her future with Fitz is over – as effectively over as if he’d died. And she moves on, in part for her own mental/emotional health and survival. As I try to show in this story in the next few chapters, and as I think the show did as well, Fitz does not blame her at all for this. While he’s angry (but not at her) and hurt, he understands. His pain is more about what he believes is the loss of his hoped-for future with her, not that she *gasp* fell for another dude who was her primary, and arguably only, source of support during the worst experience of her life. 
> 
> So why did I modify the Will hookup in the way that I did? Because here (and to some extent, in canon), the physical act of sex literally does not matter; it’s what it represents. In canon, FS were on the brink of a romantic and perhaps someday sexual relationship. That’s “stolen” from them. Here, they’re already in one, even though it’s stalled and they’re deep in denial. Jemma starting a FWB situation when she’s in the depths of despair is really not that big of a deal in a story where the **basic initial premise** is her somewhat spontaneously entering into a FWB situation. So, here, the heartbreaking thing, the thing that gets “stolen” from FS, is her decision to knowingly enter into an authentic relationship and open up her heart for the potential for more, even if she’s not _in love_ with the guy.


	21. Chapter 21

Jemma’s heart pounded and her breathing was frantic. Her eyes darted around, seeking out the danger, trying to figure out what had woken her. There was something – there was – she slowly lowered the makeshift weapon she had pulled from its hiding spot. There was nothing. She was safe. _It_ was not there.

Jemma looked around again, trying to determine where she was. The room was sterile, white, lacking sensory stimuli for the most part. The one unexpected sight was Fitz, asleep on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him. He looked exhausted, like he had collapsed there and passed out. She wondered how much of a fight he put up to stay in the room with her. She wondered if anyone had even tried to stop him.

She still didn’t quite believe she was back. Or that he was there. 

Slowly, she climbed out of bed, not wanting to disturb him. He probably had as much – as little – sleep these last several months as she had. She stepped lightly the few feet to him, then dropped to her knees and stretched out. She lowered her head onto his leg, not even noticing, really, how bony it was. She had slept on worse.

She reached a hand out, wrapping it around his leg just a little farther down, trying to convince herself he was real. 

When she woke again, it was an easy transition into consciousness, perhaps provoked by the fingers combing through her hair. Jemma rolled to her back, stretching and smiling, shocked at how well she had slept. 

“Mmm, morning, W – ” she mumbled, opening her eyes and cutting herself off in shock. She blinked as she remembered, feeling somewhat aghast at… “Fitz.”

“Hi,” he whispered, smiling down at her, moving his hand from its spot on her head to cup her cheek instead. “How are you?”

Jemma sat up, twisting slightly to look down at where she’d just been resting, and then facing Fitz again. Each time she saw him, it was like she was realizing it all anew. She was home, she was home, she was home. And Will was not. 

Fitz furrowed his brow in concern, recognizing her panic or guilt. He dropped his hand to her upper arm and squeezed supportively. 

“What do you need? What can I do?”

Jemma shook her head, fighting tears. She practically fell against him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug, exhaling and _deflating_ as his own arms came up to hold her.

**

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, choosing to stare out through the car window rather than look at him. In the city, it was almost impossible to see the stars, though.

She didn’t know how she felt about that, after seeing nothing but the night sky – and yet never the most important star – for so long. 

Because she wasn’t looking at Fitz, his hand covering hers surprised her. She glanced over, but he was focused on the road in front of him. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he replied softly. “My fault. It was too soon.”

Jemma sighed. She didn’t want him to blame himself. The dinner had been a sweet gesture, and it had been everything she had dreamed of. But how could she enjoy it when…she had to tell him. She didn’t really know why she had kept it to herself anyway. 

“Fitz?”

“Hmm?”

“I need to talk to you when we get back.”

She could feel his eyes on her for a long beat, but she didn’t face him.

If she didn’t love him so much already, she would have fallen in love with him immediately when, later that night, he told her they were going to get Will back.

**

Her body language screamed anxiety. Fitz wished there was something he could say that would make her feel better about the situation. Was he enthusiastic about rescuing this other man? Not, perhaps, as much as he pretended to be. Was he thrilled with the possibilities of what she felt for him? No. Did he blame her? Was he angry at her? Absolutely not.

But it was difficult to find the words, so he just smiled at her and waited for her to ask whatever she’d come to him for. She took a deep breath and held out her phone to him. It was dirty and cracked, which made sense. As did her reasons for giving it to him. As did the way she held onto it a little too tightly when he tried to take it from her. 

Fitz did his best to give her a supportive smile, waited until she left, and then went to work, not sure of what to prepare himself to see. 

The photos of the planet were amazing. _Two_ moons. Under other circumstances, he knew Jemma herself would be ecstatic at the potential for exploration. He opened each in turn, mouth gaping in awe.

The photo of Will had been – unexpected, hitting him in the gut like a sucker punch. He didn’t remember the last time he’d seen Jemma smile like that, certainly not since she’d returned. Part of him had been hoping Will wasn’t real. As alarming as that would be for Jemma’s mental state, he’d be happier about a figment of her imagination – he was more than familiar with the idea of an overstressed brain producing much needed social support, after all – than a real, heroic, tall astronaut who had saved her life, gave her hope, and was now stranded. 

He couldn’t – he couldn’t do this right now. He couldn’t look through her personal memories of the worst time in her life, the worst time in _his_ life. He especially couldn’t see the documentation of the moment her feelings transferred from him to – he slammed the table with his palm, pushed away from the desk and strode angrily to the door of the lab.

It was her voice saying his name that stopped him. It took him a moment to realize it wasn’t the real Jemma calling out to him, but the next file on her phone. He turned around, staring back at the computer in pain, in hope. 

By the time he returned to his desk, a new file had opened, the video revealing just how bad of shape she had been in. He exhaled roughly at the sight of her. No happy smiles here. And while she reminisced about their past and mourned her dreams for their future, Fitz could only listen. He didn’t even realize when the tears began to fall down his face.

**

“I’m just going to say what we’re all thinking. He has a hog face.”

Fitz looked up at Hunter, half-smiling. Bobbi’s nearly imperceptible nod was somehow even more appreciated. He looked back at the computer screen for a moment.

“He does have a hog face,” he muttered in agreement.

**

There were 32 more recordings on the phone. Some were observations about the planet, some were her private fears and pleas, some were moments of triumph and bravery. All were addressed to him. He listened to every single one before he went to find her.

She was standing in the last place he thought to look, but the first place he should have, after what he’d learned about the planet. The sun would rise soon, and she was staring out one of the few windows in the base. He walked up next to her and leaned against the wall. 

They talked hesitantly, finishing each other’s sentences but still skirting around the issue. Finally, Fitz confirmed, “I heard your recordings and saw your video.” She glanced at him, but he focused straight ahead, unable to make eye contact. His voice was unsteady, at least to his own ears. “Always thought you were just pretending when you talked with Mum about us settling in Perthshire.”

He risked looking at her, his heart clenching weirdly in his chest when he saw her small smile. 

“That’s in Scotland,” he added, teasing. 

“I know where it is, Fitz,” she replied, her smile growing. “And I wasn’t pretending. I realized I wasn’t pretending when I told my Mum that we’d raise our kids there someday, either.” 

Fitz exhaled sharply in shock. He stared at her for a moment, then tried to find some kind of explanation. “So, when you said all those things about…I mean, you were tired and dehydrated.”

Jemma stared at him. “I was as clearheaded then as I’ve ever been, when I said all those things,” she replied firmly and sincerely. After a moment, she added, “What do you think we should do about it?”

Fitz had no bloody clue. He knew what he wanted, but he didn’t know…he just didn’t know. Finally, he said, “For now, let’s just watch the sunrise.”

**

“Where do you get off?” Fitz demanded as he followed Jemma into the lab, sparing a glance to make sure they were alone. “Are you seriously mad at me?”

“I’m mad at myself for roping you into this! It’s not fair,” Jemma explained. “And I’m mad that you’re so willing to help.”

Fitz shook his head, scoffing and blinking back tears. “As opposed to what?” he asked, feeling rather desperate. He would love to know if there was an alternative that he was missing. “What do you expect?”

“I don’t know! Get angry,” Jemma demanded. 

“You think that I’m not angry? I’m sick to my stomach. I’m _furious_ , but not at you!”

Fitz threw up his hands, walking away from her as he told her his hypothesis – his very well-supported hypothesis – about the curse the bloody cosmos put on them. They had had years together, years. They had been married, they had made love countless times, and yet…

“Do you love him?” Fitz asked, voice breaking.

He could barely look at her, settling for trying to catch her in his peripheral vision. She held her hand to the scar above her eye, fingers curled in the new nervous tic she’d developed. She looked devastated and uncertain. Fitz wondered if it was because she didn’t know the answer to that question, or because she didn’t want to hurt him with it.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “I think…maybe, but – ”

Fitz nodded, accepting even in his hurt. “It’s OK,” he said, and it somehow was, or it would be. It’d have to be. All those months, when he’d begged and bargained and vowed he’d do anything, give up anything just to have her back – he meant it. “You don’t – you don’t owe me anything,” he reminded her. “I know I’ve always been just your…placeholder. No hard feel – ”

“That’s _not_ true,” she argued, stepping forward and grabbing onto his arm tightly. Fitz looked away, breathing deeply. “I _love_ you, Fitz.”

At that, he met her eyes. He wondered if his expression was as heartbroken as hers. “Do you?” he whispered. “Really?”

She breathed deep, exhaled it slowly. “Yes.” 

The certainty gave him some…he stepped closer. “Do you – who do you want to be with?”

“Fitz, I – ” she began, before trailing off. She shook her head, unable or unwilling to answer. Which just felt like answer enough. He nodded and turned away again, bringing his hands up to his lower back. 

“I get it. Do you think I didn’t look for dirt on him? I did and there’s nothing. I can’t hate him; he’s great. Top marks pilot astronaut hero man. He’s strong and smart and – and we both know what that does to you.”

“Ugh, Fitz!” Jemma exclaimed, prompting him to turn in surprise. All her confusion and hesitation and dismay had been replaced with a familiar, comfortable sort of annoyance. “I’m not hopelessly aroused by heroics. It’s _you_ being heroic that drives me mad, so I would think diving through a hole in the universe for me – ”

He cut her off, yanking her into a kiss that was as rough as it was quick. Their mouths didn’t quite line up right, and their lips crushed hard between their teeth. Fitz dug his fingers into her side, the other hand grabbing at her neck, even as she accidentally knocked files off the bench when she caught herself. He let her go almost immediately, his breath heaving and eyes flashing. He half-expected a slap. 

Instead Jemma stared at him for a few terrifying moments, and then she stepped closer. She slid one hand up his chest until it reached his neck. She used that hold to pull him down into another kiss, this one softer, more tentative, more hopeful. Fitz sighed against her lips, resting his forehead against hers once they separated. Jemma’s breath mingled with his own, and he almost kissed her again. 

Then Jemma shook her head, pulling away. “Fitz, I – ” she began, not apologetic enough to break his heart but not happy or relieved enough to make everything clear. And then she paused, pulling away from him farther and staring at the papers at her feet. “Fitz, is that what I think it is?”

**

“You just talk to Coulson?”

Skye – _Daisy_ , she still had to remind herself sometimes – startled Jemma out of her memories. She looked up, gave her a small smile, and nodded. 

“Yes. Poor man.”

Daisy sat next to her, sighing. “Rosalind and I weren’t each other’s favorite people, but…”

“Indeed.” 

They were both silent, but after a moment, Jemma reached out and placed her hand over her friend’s. “My talk with Coulson was not exactly a pleasant trip down memory lane for me. I can only imagine how it must have been for you.”

Daisy shrugged. “No. But you know what I’ve been realizing? We were never – we kissed a couple times. We were a lost possibility, not anything more than that, and even then it was all built on lies. It wasn’t like what I’m starting to feel for Lincoln. It was nothing like what you and Fitz have.”

“Yes, well,” Jemma responded with a sigh. “Speaking of lost possibilities.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” 

“Fitz does. He thinks the cosmos has cursed us or something.”

“That doesn’t sound very scientific,” Daisy replied, fighting a smile. 

Jemma shook her head, rolling her eyes. But her amusement soon faded. “Maybe he’s right. At least then I could put the blame on the universe instead of…myself.”

“Jemma,” Daisy said forcefully, turning towards her. “What happened was _not_ your fault.”

“The monolith, no. But I – I gave up on him. I gave up on us. It wasn’t even despair; I made a _choice_ to – to – I don’t know. Stop trying. Stop hoping. He never did. I don’t – I don’t deserve him.”

“Whatever,” Daisy dismissed. “It’s not some kind of contest; true love means never keeping score. Fitz was only able to keep going because he had the whole rest of the team behind him, you know. And I guarantee you he would rather have you back with an astronaut boyfriend than dead on that planet of heartbreak.”

“All you’re doing is proving my point,” Jemma responded, albeit with a small smile. “And he’s not my boyfriend. Also, it’s ‘never having to say you’re sorry.’”

Daisy laughed. “Pretty sure that’s the worst piece of romantic advice ever.”

Jemma hummed in agreement. After a beat of silent reflection, she felt Daisy’s eyes on her. “What?”

“He’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know if he’s alive.”

“Is he a lost possibility then?”

“He’s – someone I need to save, if I can.”

“But he’s not your boyfriend?”

“Daisy, why – ”

“Um, Jemma?”

She turned in more than a little alarm at the interruption. She wondered how much he’d heard. She wondered if Daisy had known he was there; a small glance back was met with an overly innocent stare. Jemma just barely shook her head in reproach.

“Yes, Fitz?” she finally responded.

“Banks is here. They want us in the lab.”

“Oh. OK.” 

They held each other’s eyes for an uncomfortably long time, and then Fitz turned and headed towards the lab.


	22. Chapter 22

Jemma huffed to herself, shaking her head in admittedly misplaced anger. Fitz’s insistence at wanting to save Will regardless of the danger it posed, putting himself in front of her when Banks was forced to aim his gun on them, arguing in futile defense of her, even struggling as they were separated (again, _again_ ) – all of it just served to remind her how incredibly heedless of his own safety he was when it came to her. How he kept trying to get himself killed for her. How she could never hope to – God _damn_ him. If she wanted to marry a martyr, she would have. But how could anyone live up to – 

Her inner diatribe was brought to an abrupt end by Ward entering the room where she was tied up. He stood in front of her, beginning to make some typically obnoxious threats, in his oh-so-calm, oh-so-rational tone. Jemma shot back a few sarcastic replies, doing her best not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her afraid. 

“Sure, being trapped on another world might’ve had a lot to do with it,” he was saying, “but I would like to think dropping you and Fitz 20,000 leagues under the sea really got the ball rolling.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You really are the king idiot.”

With a humorless smile, Ward replied, “This can go a couple of different ways.”

“Do your worst.”

“If you’d really gotten to know me, you’d know that I would never do anything to hurt you, Jemma.”

She looked away, trying not to react. She didn’t know what angered her more, the absolute lie, the fact that he seemed to believe it, or that he dared to use her first name, as if they were friends. 

“But,” Ward continued, “I can’t say the same is true for him.” 

He looked over his shoulder, waiting for his accomplice to enter. Jemma watched, trying – but she suspected failing – not to show any fear. She inhaled deeply and steeled herself again.

“I’ll never tell you what you want to know.”

Ward chuckled ominously. “I know _you_ won’t.”

She felt the blood drain from her face as she realized his plan. As frustrating as Fitz’s overprotective, self-sacrificing nature could be to her, it was still a part of him, and she loved him for it. But just then, she hated him for it. Or at least for making it as obvious to everyone else. She looked up at Ward, not too proud to plead with her eyes if unable to do so with her voice.

“Jemma,” he said, almost as if he were asking her politely for a favor. “I’m going to need you to scream as loud as you can.”

Ward left the room, and Jemma focused on the other man. As he approached, she felt herself twitching nervously. She closed her eyes, searching for a sense of calmness and vowing to herself not to make a sound. 

In her defense, she lasted far longer than she ever would have expected.

**

“Hey! You touch her and the deal’s off.”

A part of Fitz was surprised when the threat worked, but he counted his blessings and instead focused on Jemma as she closed the rest of the distance between them. She looked destroyed, and Fitz wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and comfort her. Best not to give Ward any extra ammunition, though. Let him think they were still painfully out of sync. 

It was at least partially true, anyway. 

“Fitz,” Jemma begged. “Please just let them kill me.”

Fitz shook his head. How could she ever think that could be a possibility? “I can’t do that; I won’t,” he replied, aiming to sound softly encouraging so she wouldn’t know how afraid he was. “I’m not strong enough to live in a world that doesn’t have you in it.”

Jemma’s shoulders fell and her eyes filled with tears, even as she leaned forward to rest her head against his collarbone. He let her, too desperate to feel her one last time to think about what it could reveal to their captors. Instead, he lifted a hand and placed it against the back of her neck. 

Jemma let out a shuddering breath. “Come back to me,” she whispered. “Just don’t bring that thing with you.”

“Only thing I’m gonna bring back is Will.”

Jemma lifted her head and made eye contact. She seemed incredibly determined to make her point, and Fitz felt strangely nervous about it. 

“If it comes down to him or you,” Jemma began. 

“I know.” 

But truthfully, while he had hope, he didn’t know _for sure_ what she meant by that. He just couldn’t have her finish, not now when he’d need to focus on surviving the planet, not when there was no time to truly talk. Whatever they still had to say to each other would have to wait. As if on cue, Ward re-entered the room, and Fitz stepped quickly away from Jemma. 

Just before he went back through the swirling pit, he looked at Jemma one more time. Just in case it was the last time.

**

Being Ward’s prisoner on a desolate alien planet put things into perspective. Will actually seemed like a pretty good bloke, and he could certainly understand how Jemma might develop feelings for him, especially when they only had each other. (Fitz tried not to remind himself that a “well, there’s no one else” attitude perhaps could describe the foundation of his own relationship with her as well.) He wasn’t willing to concede and wish him and Jemma a lifetime of bliss together, but he didn’t hate him.

Will had protected Jemma, helped get her home. Fitz could _never_ hate him. 

As they trudged along in front of Ward and his men, they talked quietly, attempting to come up with some kind of plan for escape. Neither one of them cared at all about Hydra’s reasons for being there, obviously. They just had to make it to the portal in time. 

Once they had the bare bones of an idea, Fitz was silent for a long beat until he couldn’t ignore the issue between them anymore.

“You know, I wondered what it’d be like when we finally met,” he said, letting the statement hang in the air just long enough for the significance to be felt. Then he added, “There’s a lot more blood – and I never considered the smell.”

Will looked at him, seeming as awkward as Fitz felt but smiling slightly. “I can see why Jemma loves you.”

Fitz stared ahead. He felt nervous and uncertain whether he should push the topic. Honestly, Will’s feelings on the issue didn’t matter. Jemma’s did and she – “She…you…” he stuttered, before he even realized he was speaking. 

“Me? Nah,” Will disagreed almost immediately. He seemed – if not happy – accepting. “You were always her first thought. She used to say your name all the time, even in her sleep, even when – I was a consolation prize at best.”

Fitz blinked, trying to process the response while simultaneously forcing himself not to wonder what the second _even_ was or how exactly Will heard Jemma talking in her sleep. He supposed the cots hadn’t been _that_ far apart. 

“Well,” Fitz finally said, “at any rate, she’s really looking forward to seeing you again. So, let’s get home.”

Will nodded.

**

“We’re almost there,” Fitz said, looking at the tablet and then pointing in the distance. “Down this hill and then – ”

“I’m just – I can’t really believe it,” Will replied, sliding in the sand as he led the way down the dune.

“Not too long now,” Fitz confirmed, smiling as they reached the lower level and began to walk towards the spot the portal should open. “Sorry, Ward.”

“I have to admit, it’s kind of weird for me, meeting you and him. Like meeting Prince Charming and the evil villain.”

“You – she told you about – ”

“The pod and Hydra and everything? Yeah. I’m still not sure I believe it took you that long to realize you were in love with her.”

Fitz laughed involuntarily. He glanced at Will. “It didn’t. Just took me that long to tell her. And she really did tell you everything, huh?”

“Fitz,” Will said, clapping him on the back, “there were a lot of long hours to fill.” 

Fitz nodded in acknowledgment and perhaps some embarrassment. But before he could respond, there was the rather shocking sound of someone calling his name. They both turned towards the voice, and Fitz breathed out in surprise. It wasn’t that Ward had caught up to them – part of him had almost expected things wouldn’t have been that easy. It was that Ward wasn’t the one who had shouted to him. 

“Coulson?” he wondered aloud.

“Wait – your boss?” Will asked, looking back and forth between Fitz and the others. “How did – ?”

“I don’t know,” Fitz replied absent-mindedly, more focused on them than the man beside him. 

It turned out his attention was warranted, as Ward suddenly made a move. He and Coulson battled for the upper hand, and Fitz could only hope that a literal robot hand would be successful. But he didn’t rely on hope; moving quickly, he stripped his pack off his back and dropped to one knee as he unzipped the pocket. He glanced up to see Ward and Coulson rolling down the hill as they struggled, and then he turned back to the bag as he pulled out a flare gun. It was less than ideal, but it was the best weapon he had, at least from a distance.

Jemma had told him that seeing the flare had been the happiest moment of her life. It seemed fitting that shooting one would be the first and hopefully last thing he’d do on this planet.

“Fitz!” He turned to Will’s voice, then looked where he was pointing. The timer on the tablet was getting dangerously low.

Fitz whirled forward. “Sir!” he shouted. “Hurry!”

He lifted the flare gun, trying to get a good shot, but there was too much movement, too many times when Coulson was in the way or close enough to be risky. Fitz took two steps forward, contemplating going to join the fight instead. It was then that Ward got a lucky hit in and sent Coulson flying. Fitz lifted the gun again, closing one eye to help aim. 

He could see Ward turn to him, raising his own newly acquired gun. A shot rang out before Fitz could pull the trigger and then – he fell to the ground from the force of Will’s push. Behind him, Will grunted and collapsed. Fitz felt torn, needing to eliminate the threat Ward posed but desperate to help Will. Thankfully, the decision was made for him when Coulson tackled Ward. Fitz – perhaps unwisely – dropped the flare gun as he leaned over Will.

He was bleeding profusely from the wound in his chest. Fitz felt rather useless, his hands hovering over Will for a moment before he reached down and tried to apply pressure. 

“Maybe Jemma should’ve been the one to come here, after all,” he joked inappropriately.

Will shook his head, even as he thrashed his legs around with the pain. “Would never want her back here.”

“Why’d you do that?” Fitz asked, almost angrily. “Why’d you push me out of the way?”

“Because – ” he laughed humorlessly – “I never really believed I’d go back. But you need to.”

“I can – I think I can drag you to the portal, and then we’ll get you patched up.”

Will shook his head. “Don’t waste – time. Just – please – ” he broke off with a pained groan.

“Please what?” 

“Shoot me with the flare.”

“ _What?!_ ” Fitz nearly shrieked.

“It – _it_ – gets in dead bodies. That’s how it – I won’t let it have me. Not now.”

“Will, don’t be – ”

“Please,” he begged. Fitz winced as he saw the blood appearing on Will’s lips. “It’ll be just like – cremation.”

“I can’t. I can’t.”

Will coughed, seemed to want to say more, and then shook his head. “Tell Jemma not to be sad about me. Tell her – tell her she saved me more than – than she’ll ever know.”

“Will, stop – ”

But there was nothing else to say. With one more shudder of pain, Will was dead. Fitz breathed out once, sharply. He couldn’t wrap his mind around – they were _feet_ away from where the portal was – was beginning to form. They were almost – Will almost – everything Fitz had done hadn’t been enough. He’d have to go home to Jemma without – how would she ever forgive him? Would she ever be able to move on? And could he do as Will asked and – 

Fitz yelped as a hand grabbed his shoulder. He turned, jumping to his feet, prepared to defend himself. Then, his shoulders fell with relief, and he exhaled shakily as he saw Coulson.

“Sir, what are you – ?”

“No time for that,” Coulson replied, nodding in the direction of the fully-formed portal. 

Fitz stared at it for a second, then turned, seeking out Ward, wondering – he was on his back, unmoving.

“Sir?”

“He’s…not coming with us.”

Fitz felt – not relief or grief, exactly, but something in between. And then he felt nothing but fear as he saw in the distance a cyclone of dust swirling into existence. Jemma had told him about the way _it_ manifested. 

He and Coulson needed to move, and not only because the portal’s time window was closing. But before he could go, he knew he would never forgive himself if he didn’t honor Will’s last request, after everything.

He bent down, picked up the flare gun and stepped clear of the body near his feet. 

“What are you doing?” Coulson yelled over the sound of the gusting wind.

Fitz shook his head. “I’ll explain later.” And then he pulled the trigger.

He looked away quickly, unable to watch the sight of someone who had almost become a friend – or at least had the potential of being one – burning. He then reached inside the bag, feeling sick to his stomach when he realized that had been the only flare. He stared at Ward’s body one more time, swallowed thickly, and then turned. Pushing Coulson ahead of him, they both ran. 

It might have been his imagination, but Fitz could almost feel something behind him as he slid through the portal in the nick of time.

**

The module docked on the plane, and Fitz stood slowly. He followed Coulson, Mack and Daisy out, dreading the look on Jemma’s face when she realized it was only him. He walked up behind her as she stared, with painful hope, through the window. He didn’t know how she sensed that he was there, but she turned.

It wasn’t quite the expression he had been expecting, and he didn’t know how to read it. He also had no idea what to say. But words turned out to be unnecessary, and he – tired and numb physically, mentally and emotionally – lifted his arms to return her hug.


	23. Chapter 23

“And then I – I shot him with the flare, and we went through the portal.”

Jemma nodded, her chin digging against her knees. She sat in the corner of the couch, arms wrapped around her legs. It was late, and they were all alone in the common room. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the hour or the darkness or the events Fitz was describing, but she felt cold and lonely. Especially with him wedged in the opposite corner, about as far away as he could get from her. He wouldn’t look at her either. 

Jemma sighed. “Thank you, Fitz.”

That surprised a response from him. He faced her, eyes wide with confusion and regret. “For _what_?”

“For burning his body. For making sure that thing couldn’t take him.”

Fitz shook his head and looked forward. “I told you I’d get him back.”

Jemma watched him for a long moment. She couldn’t deny that she was sad about Will; _of course_ she was. But she couldn’t believe he still – “You kept the only promise that mattered to me. Or maybe he kept it for you.”

Fitz stared at her again and they held eye contact for what felt like ages. Finally, Jemma had to say something. She had to know if they had any chance now.

“Fitz? I know things haven’t been easy between us, but do you think we could…start over?”

Fitz contemplated her request silently, his expression blank. Jemma was too afraid to hope.

“No,” he finally said. “We can’t. We can’t ever go back.”

She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach, and the meek sound that came out of her was entirely involuntarily. Blinking back tears, she looked forward. She needed to get out of there, but she didn’t think she could stand just then. 

“But we can go forward,” Fitz continued softly.

Jemma spun on him with a sharp exhalation. She had the crazy desire to smack him for the perhaps unintentional fake-out. 

“I want to,” Fitz added. “No matter how slowly we move, or where we end up. Do – do you?”

Jemma closed her eyes, feeling her mouth twist into a weird shape as she struggled not to cry. She felt Fitz cup her face and softly slide his thumb over her cheek. Unable to resist and unwilling to think about potential implications or consequences, Jemma shifted closer, snuggling against Fitz and smiling when his arm came around his shoulders. 

“Start over,” he scoffed, the familiar teasing tone in his voice perhaps a bit forced. “D’you really want me in 16-year-old, achingly shy, virgin mode?”

“Quiet,” Jemma scolded. 

_No,_ she thought to herself. _No, she did not. But she’d take what she could get._

**

“I think we’re supposed to hold hands now.”

Fitz tore his eyes away from the falling ash to focus on Jemma. Both the comment itself and the way she was looking at him made him feel breathless. His pulse sped up, and he swallowed thickly. Dropping his gaze lower, he stared at their hands as they cautiously came together. When they linked, fingers intertwining, Fitz felt like so many more things slotted into place.

**

Fitz’s sigh caught Jemma’s attention and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He lowered his tablet into his lap and rubbed his palms over his eyes. She knew how he felt – it had been a long, frustrating day, and they were no closer to knowing how to help their friends.

“We should be in the lab.”

“Well,” Fitz said, pointing at the running analyses, “we’re running every test that we can.”

It was true, but not very comforting. Jemma felt her shoulders fall slightly as she looked ahead. The picture on the wall in front of her made her feel somewhat nostalgic – for all the walls the poster had hung on over the years, _not_ for her own time spent in space.

“One of these days, we’ll find something out in space that’s magnificent, right? Not trying to infect us or kill us like Hive?”

“What’s Hive?” Fitz asked with false bravado. “Couldn’t even get off a desert planet without us, so…”

Jemma smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder. It didn’t matter where they were or how things were between them. This very spot always made her feel like she was home.

“I just want to help our friends,” she observed quietly.

“I know,” he replied.

The tone of his voice was – Jemma tilted her head to meet his gaze as he stared down at her. And then it happened so naturally, so easily, one would have thought they’d never stopped. He leaned closer and she lifted her head up and their lips touched ever so softly. After a moment, he started to deepen the kiss, and Jemma’s worries started to drift away. 

Just as suddenly, Fitz pulled away. He leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Uh, sorry. I know everything with Will and – I didn’t mean to push.”

Jemma rolled her eyes, even as she laughed at him. “Fitz, we’ve been married for years. You aren’t pushing me into anything; we agreed to move forward, remember?”

“Really?” 

“Really.” She stared at him until he made eye contact, and then she tried to convey just how serious she was. “I’m tired of seeing our friends ripped apart from each other. That can’t happen to us again. I _won’t_ let it.”

Fitz nodded. “Then we won’t let it.”

Jemma smiled, squeezing his hands in hers.

“Who needs space?” he asked, turning to fix her with a loving, if slightly teasing expression. “Because I’ve got something magnificent right here.”

Jemma laughed, even as she felt her eyes soften in response to his tenderness. He always seemed to know what to say, whether it was to cheer her up or make her feel special or turn her on or – she moved to kiss him again, nearly huffing in frustration when he moved his head and prevented her. He looked up at the poster, pointing with their joined hands. 

“A picture of space,” he concluded, prompting a burst of laughter from her. “One of my prized possessions, that is. I don’t know – ”

“OK,” Jemma interrupted. She climbed to her knees as she turned closer to Fitz. Smoothing her hands over his chest up to his neck, she pulled him into another kiss, this one more passionate and less cautious than before. 

He tried to continue speaking for a few moments, voice muffled by her lips and his own laughter, and then he committed himself to the kiss. His arms came up around her in an embrace, not too tight, as if he were still uncertain or unbelieving that this was really happening. Jemma pressed closer, relishing in the feel of his lips and the way his nose pressed against her cheek, and the slight tickle of her hair as his breath caused it to ruffle against her ear. Every one of her senses felt heightened, much like they had been after her return from Maveth, almost as if she was reborn on this planet again, and she wondered if it had always been like this or if – Jemma pulled away, breaking the kiss to try to calm herself. She was getting a bit carried away. 

Their breathing was harsh, and they barely separated. She felt a little cross-eyed when she tried to look at him. 

“I have something magnificent right here, too,” she whispered. 

Fitz smiled. He lifted a hand to brush her hair back. “Bit soppy, yeah?” he responded.

Jemma barked a laugh. For such a stressful day, she was laughing far more than she felt she had a right to. And that thought was like a bucket of water thrown on her. With a disappointed groan, she separated from him farther, returning to her earlier sitting position. Fitz seemed confused, trying to discourage her and pull her closer again. 

Jemma reached out for the tablet. “We should…”

Fitz sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, we…” He cleared his throat, then took the tablet from her. A moment later, his arm came up, wrapping around her shoulders. Jemma accepted the compromise, sliding closer so they could both see the test results.

**

Fitz waited until they had some semblance of privacy before he broached the subject. The night before had been bloody fantastic. He didn’t remember the last time things had seemed so simple and easy and fun between them, despite all the chaos going on just outside the door. And while he certainly _did_ remember the last time they snogged that much, it had been far too long ago.

The only problem was they hadn’t been able to talk. Maybe Fitz should have forced a conversation instead of going back to work in the few minutes they had before the next crisis. But part of him had just wanted to savor the way she felt leaning against him, like she used to. He hadn’t wanted to push his luck, but he realized now that he needed to know what exactly it meant. She had said something about being ready to move forward – but forward into what? 

And so, he took the first opportunity he could get.

“Uh, Jemma…uh, I know it’s not a good time but can we speak about what happened between us last night – ” Dammit, where had that agent come from? “ – professionally speaking, I mean,” he added, with a significant expression. 

She caught on immediately, playing along, albeit probably not as subtly as she could have. Not that he was any less obvious. It was times like this that he realized they were still sometimes as inexperienced and unskilled at secret agenting as they were back when they first went into the field. 

Fitz stammered through his next response, trying to express his concerns. While he was more than happy going as slow or as fast as Jemma wanted, he just needed to be sure they were on the same page this time as to what the destination was. He didn’t want to lose her again. He wouldn’t risk that, no matter how badly he wanted to – 

“You mean when we resume having sex?” Jemma stated bluntly. 

Fitz stared at her, speechless. It wasn’t her forthrightness, really, that stopped him in his tracks. Jemma had never had a great filter in these kinds of situations. It was just – well, dammit, now he was picturing it and – he blinked, his hands still out to the side in an aborted gesture. 

And then the situation just got worse. May suddenly appeared. With a mental _nope_ , Fitz made up some excuse and left as soon as he possibly could.

**

If he thought she had shocked him with her bold statements before, it was nothing compared to the undercover outfit she chose to sneak into Radcliffe’s lair. Fitz could really only hope his subconscious had sufficiently memorized his role in the whole thing, because his brain was definitely otherwise occupied at the moment. Not to mention other parts of his anatomy.

Earlier that night, when they had teased Mack together, things had seemed easy between them again. Fitz remembered how much _fun_ they could have together. Science and a similar, if odd, sense of humor had been the basis of their friendship, and their friendship had been the basis of everything else. It was nice to fall back into old patterns, and it had made his nerves and hesitation about jumping back into, well, everything else, disappear for a little while.

And then she showed up in a bright red jacket and matching lipstick, and very, very, very tight leather trousers, and – the heels. He knew those heels. He _loved_ those heels. Those heels had a starring role in an embarrassingly large number of his fantasies. 

He felt like a child playing dress-up next to her, honestly, but he couldn’t stop looking at her. She caught him at it as they stepped through the door, and he looked away quickly, adjusting his glasses in an attempt to seem casual. 

“What is it? Do I look weird?”

Fitz stared back at her, wondering if she was teasing him or if she truly didn’t know. “No,” he answered. “You look nice. Very nice.”

She gave him a pleased, if slightly wobbly, smile, and then stepped forward into the club. Fitz hung back to check – yep, those shoes still made her calves and arse look fantastic. He breathed out slowly to get his head back in the game, then tapped at his glasses.

“Mack, do you have a visual?”

“Affirmative. I see what you see.”

Fitz blushed, even as he felt irrationally jealous at Mack’s appreciative tone. “Stop looking at my wife.”

Jemma glanced over her shoulder with a smirk, and he suddenly, belatedly remembered she was on comms too.

**

It took Jemma a moment to realize what Fitz was trying to do. Once she did, though, she quickly played along and within seconds, they were both offline.

“Got a long history of unfinished conversations, so… I thought it was about time that…”

He was incredibly uncomfortable, and Jemma had to smile. “We finish one,” she agreed. 

And then he started rambling about the singularity in transhumanism. Jemma alternated between confusion at the comparison to their relationship (which seemed a bit of a stretch), happiness at what he was saying underneath it all, and fond adoration for how he worked his way through it. 

He was right, of course. Their friendship and their marriage had always been frankly too simple and comfortable in the past. They fell into things easily, without considering the ramifications or implications of it all. It had been so effortless to be together, to love each other without ever admitting it. But now – now, when they were at last ready to change their relationship into something _more_ …

“It's quite lovely when you think about it like that. And also, terrifying,” she observed.

And perhaps it was time they stopped thinking and overthinking and talking and not talking and just – do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe only one more chapter?! I can't!
> 
> It will PROBABLY go up on Monday, and then sometime later in the week, I might be able to start posting my next fic!


	24. Chapter 24

She made it back to the hotel room somehow, still in a daze. She didn’t really know if shooting – _Hive_ – had meant anything. She had pulled the trigger, but all that had truly accomplished was give her the time and opportunity to get away. It hadn’t killed the creature. And both the man whose skin he wore and the man who fought so hard to protect them both from the same fate were long dead. 

So, no, the shooting hadn’t given her closure. But maybe saying the truth aloud had, if any closure had still been needed in the first place. She wasn’t entirely sure.

The only thing she knew for certain was she needed to see Fitz and make sure he was OK. That became doubly true when she learned from Mack that Fitz was still out there. She was about to leave again to find him, but Mack forced her to stay.

Bringing her over to the bed and sitting across from her, he asked her about the events of the night. The topic helped distract her from her worry slightly, even if it wasn’t exactly happy either. But soon, after they’d discussed Hive and Daisy, the tone shifted. 

“So, how long have you two…?”

Jemma fought a blush. She lifted a shaky hand to straighten her hair. She knew it was her tell, but she still couldn’t stop. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mack fixed her with a look. “You know how many times Bobbi and Hunter pulled the _my comms are broken_ trick? Come on.”

Jemma smiled, both at Mack’s attitude and the bittersweet mention of their absent friends. “I don’t know. I – I suppose it’s very new.”

“No, it isn’t,” Mack reminded her. 

Jemma’s face went slack as she considered his statement. Perhaps part of it – the honesty – was new, but everything else – the love, the hopes and dreams, the attraction – was certainly not. 

“OK,” she admitted with a self-conscious laugh, “it’s not.” 

But she wouldn’t gossip any more, no matter how much Mack tried to tease her into it. She did sincerely apologize, however, for her past jealous rudeness to him. He waved away the attempt, even as he pointed out she wasn’t the only one who lacked a little tact when they first met. But their conversation couldn’t last forever, and soon he announced his intention to return to the Quinjet so they could take off as soon as possible.

It was then she realized Fitz was _still_ gone. 

But she promised Mack that she wouldn’t leave, and she spent the next several minutes alone, wandering around the hotel room, as she waited and worried. She was standing in the loo, staring at the mirror without really seeing anything, when the door opened and closed. She hurried out, scared it was just Mack but hoping – 

“Jemma?” Fitz called out as she entered the room.

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

He dropped his keys onto the bag on the floor. He sighed and stepped closer. “Looking for you!”

“Oh! Well!” As the relief settled, her annoyance snuck back in. “I’ve been _here_ at the rendezvous point like we discussed.”

He asked after Mack then, not apologizing or even really acknowledging her point. She was prepared to yell at him some more for making her worry, even if it did turn her into something of a nagging wife cliché, but then he walked closer and closer.

“We've got a lot to talk about,” he observed, his face only inches from hers.

Jemma breathed heavily, her heart pounding and her hands trembling. But she certainly wasn’t angry anymore. 

Moments later, they were kissing. No tentative innocence, no careful exploration this time. They were both ready to take this step, and they didn’t want to wait any longer. Her jacket came off, followed by his, and he pulled her closer even as she tugged his shirt out of his trousers. She was giddy with joy as they swayed together, chasing each other’s lips. Her happiness didn’t even dim when he paused and separated from her, lifting her hands to clasp them between their chests. 

“Jemma,” he murmured. 

“Yeah?” she asked, unable to stop grinning. She wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but she had her hopes. The sweetness of his voice, the tender way he looked at her, all of it seemed to – 

“Your hands are freezing.”

She laughed out loud, falling even more hopelessly in love with him when she saw his pleased smirk. She wondered if he too remembered the stipulation in their contract that said when they were sitting on the couch together, she could not stick her chilly toes under his thigh in an attempt to warm them up. 

“Are they?” she asked, lifting her hands to test them against her cheeks. “Oh, they’re like little ice buckets, aren’t they?”

Fitz smiled fondly, taking her hands back and rubbing his own over them to produce friction. 

“Do you think you can brave it?” she asked, feeling rather breathless as she thought about all the other friction she’d like to make with him.

He huffed warm breath onto her fingers, then curled his own around them. With a smile, he confirmed, “I’ll do my best to power through.”

He leaned forward to kiss her again, and Jemma guided them both to tumble to the mattress. He landed on top of her, and she held her hands – hopefully warm now, though she suspected it wouldn’t matter either way – to his cheeks as they kissed and kissed and kissed. They stayed in that position only briefly, until with a small push to his shoulder, he rolled to his back. Jemma followed, settling on top of him. 

She could feel the length of his cock as it hardened beneath her. With a moan, she undulated her body in repeated waves. Fitz gasped against her mouth, raising one hand to the back of her head and the other to her arse. He rocked up to meet her, making Jemma whimper. She pushed herself up until she was kneeling, then focused her energy on unbuttoning his shirt, bending down every so often to suck kisses onto the skin as she exposed it. 

Fitz pulled slightly at her hair, perhaps unintentionally, and then with a soft grunt, he flipped them again. Hooking his hands under her armpits, he pulled her farther onto the bed, then lowered his own body down. Jemma wrapped her legs around his hips, crossing them at the ankle and pushing against him as he pivoted his hips on top of hers.

She broke their kiss, mumbling nonsense as she blindly reached down and freed his cock. Her own trousers were a little harder to get into, taking their combined effort to unfasten and tug them just far enough down so she could spread her legs just wide enough. 

Fitz paused, propping himself on one elbow and resting his forehead against hers. He was so close, it was difficult to focus. 

“Do we – do we need - ?” 

“Oh!” She shook her head quickly. “No, I was tested for everything under the…moons,” she said, laughing at her own joke, “and I’m back on – ”

“Oh good,” he breathed out, leaning down to kiss her messily.

“Unless, of course, you were – ” she teased when they broke apart again, only to trail off into a moan when Fitz entered her. 

“Not funny,” he argued, the lust in his voice making the reprimand unconvincing. 

Jemma laughed anyway, far too happy. He closed the distance between them again, kissing her thoroughly and increasing the pace of his thrusts. 

Considering everything, it neither surprised nor disappointed Jemma that they both came in record time. They’d have ample opportunity – the rest of their lives – to make love to each other slowly and sweetly. For now, she’d more than happily take the almost surprised shouts of ecstasy and the quivering limbs as they held each other while they came down from the high.

Fitz said something, his voice muffled by the pillow he rested on.

“Hmm?” Jemma wondered. 

He lifted up, pausing a moment to splutter and pull away the strands of her hair that had ended up in his mouth. Then he looked into her eyes. 

“I love you.”

Jemma blinked, a soft smile spreading across her face. It wasn’t that she didn’t know. She just liked to hear it. She opened her mouth to respond in kind, until she realized there was something much more important she had to say. 

“I don’t want to be fake-married to you anymore.”

He twitched an eyebrow questioningly. 

“I want to be real-married to you,” she clarified.

**

Fitz was thinking of inventive ways to punish Jemma as soon as she got out of the loo. Not for making him unpack, of course, but for what exactly she was making him unpack. It didn’t seem fair that he should be forced to transfer lacy piece of lingerie after lacy piece of lingerie from the suitcase to the drawer. He was relieved when he reached the end of those, but only until he found her bikini next. 

She walked back into the main hotel room then, and he turned to face her. And then he breathed out sharply. She hadn’t packed _all_ of her skimpy underthings then.

“Hi,” he greeted dumbly. 

“All unpacked?”

“Almost,” he confirmed, unable to drag his eyes from her.

Because he wasn’t looking, he was rather surprised when his hand brushed against a piece of paper instead of clothing. He turned to glance inside the suitcase again, and then his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Is this – why did you pack this?”

“A…statement,” Jemma explained, stepping closer. 

She reached out, took the packet from him, and then ripped the papers in half. Fitz’s eyes widened. He slowly began to smile.

“You know,” he pointed out. “We actually had a lot of good ideas in there.” 

Jemma tossed the scraps over her shoulder and closed the distance between them. “We’ll just play it by ear from now on.”

**

Aftershocks of her climax still shuddered through Jemma as Fitz kissed his way back up her body. When their mouths met, she could taste herself on him. She moaned, scrunching her hand in his hair and desperately wishing they could drag this out for as long as he was clearly gearing up to.

With a sigh, Jemma turned her head to glance at the clock. 

“We should – we have to – ”

“Mmm,” Fitz protested, angling his body so he could kiss her neck and reach down to finger her still slightly too sensitive clit. “Whatever you have scheduled, it can probably wait,” he pointed out. 

She shook her head. “Not this. Unless you want to explain to your mum while we’re late.”

He pulled back from her quickly, staring at her in alarm. She almost snorted when she felt his erection wilt. “What?”

Jemma smiled quickly. “Your mother. She should be landing at the airport soon. My parents will be here later this evening.”

“Jemma…what?”

She smiled wider. “Do you think Coulson would have approved just _any_ time off, at a time like this?”

“Huh? I don’t – ” His utter confusion – and perhaps dismay that his sexy beach holiday had apparently turned into a family reunion – was as adorable as it was understandable. She figured he’d be happy enough about it once he learned more. 

“They’ll only be here for a couple days, but Fitz, they still haven’t forgiven us for the courthouse wedding. They’d never talk to us again if we didn’t invite them to the vow renewal ceremony.”

His eyes opened wide. “Vow – vow – what?” he asked, a happy smile growing on his face. 

“Who’s the romantic one now, hmm?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got done with my work early, so you get this chapter early!
> 
> And with that, it's over! Whoooo! I'm not saying I'll never come back and try to do season 4 in this universe, but I have no current plans to. I wanted to end on a happy note.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading and commenting. It actually feels like it took a few years to get through this...


End file.
